


Reprise

by MechBull



Series: Reprise AU [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Happy Ending, also includes pregnancy labor and other baby-related scenes, but not a kidfic in the traditional sense, later chapters include references to diet and body image issues and ableism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-13
Updated: 2015-01-01
Packaged: 2018-03-01 07:49:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 26,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2765354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MechBull/pseuds/MechBull
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(<i>n</i>.) Musical term referring to a repetition or return to an original theme, possibly with some variation such as changed lyrics. </p><p>(AKA The Only Light in the Darkness, FitzSimmons style)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Jemma’s leg bounced involuntarily, her shoe tapping out a staccato rhythm on the bathroom tile. She felt sick – a different kind of sick than she’d been feeling the last few mornings. Burying her face in her hands, she exhaled slowly and thanked any and all deities, including Thor, that she hadn’t actually had time to eat lunch that day and so there was nothing she could lose. She had instead run to the drugstore and bought the pregnancy test she was currently waiting to finish doing its thing. She’d been lying to herself, she realized that now. The queasy stomach she blamed on whatever she had eaten for dinner the night before. The fatigue. And, most difficult to ignore, the late period. But that morning, she had pushed the samples she was working on away in disgust, unable to handle the smell. Her lab partner, Marci, had laughingly asked her when she was due, and at Jemma’s confusion, reminded her about her inability to work with certain tissues and chemicals during her last pregnancy. 

Jemma had tried to laugh along with her. But she was too busy doing the math. It had been about six weeks since Fitz had been in town, and that had been the first time she’d seen him since the month before, not to mention the first time since they said those three little words. They might have been (OK, definitely were) a little too eager to be as conscientious as they should have been about protection. Just one of the dangers of falling for someone who traveled so much for his job, even if they were very good about using all the technology available to two geniuses to talk as much as possible. The thing was, though, they’d met less than a year ago. Hardly enough of a foundation for – 

Jemma’s phone beeped. Time was up. 

She sat straighter and took a minute to breathe slowly and deeply. Then she reached behind her and groped blindly, finally finding the stick resting on the toilet lid. She didn’t stop to think or worry or wonder. She just brought it forward as quickly as possible.

Positive.

***

The day had passed in something of a fog. But by the time she got home, Jemma had to admit that she was actually coming around to the idea. It wasn’t the best situation, granted, and she didn’t know how Fitz would react. If he didn’t want anything to do with it or her anymore (unlikely) or if he didn’t want to give up his job (a distinct possibility), then she’d essentially be a single mom. And she had plenty of other ambitions and responsibilities in her life, so…

But on the other hand, it had been Fitz who said _I love you_ first. Jemma couldn’t help but laugh as she remembered the slightly shocked, slightly scared expression on his face afterwards and how she had teased him for saying it for the first time over Skype, of all things, not to mention for taking so long to say it in the first place. She only had the willpower to torture him for a few moments, though, and then she was saying it back and they both spent the rest of the conversation grinning at each other dopily. 

She couldn’t even begin to imagine how adorable (and smart!) a kid with their genes would be. 

Before she could let herself think about it anymore, she sent him a quick text to call her back ASAP. 

He never did call back though, and eventually Jemma dozed off on the couch. When she woke up, her throat was dry and her neck sore and the talking head on the TV was saying something about chaos in the international intelligence community and buildings collapsing and World War II. It took her a moment to climb her way out of the haze the nap left her in. Finally, things started coming together, and every mention of S.H.I.E.L.D. made her more and more nervous.

She pulled her laptop closer and checked her phone while it booted up – still no message from Fitz. She resent her previous one, adding a _please_ for urgency. Finally, her computer was on, and she began to read every news piece Google helpfully returned. The sinking, sick feeling in her stomach had nothing to do with the almost-forgotten pregnancy test.

**

It was almost 40 hours before she got any news. She hadn’t been able to go into work at all, especially not after she tried to call Fitz’ phone and only got an automated message that the phone was out of range of cell towers.

And then, when she was dangerously close to losing her mind, screaming, storming the nearest government building until she got some answers…answers came. The man who knocked at her door was wearing a suit and sunglasses. He was balding just a bit, and he spoke with a too-kind voice when he asked if she were Jemma Simmons. 

He didn’t have to say anything else. She knew. She felt it in every cell of her body as her legs gave out and she collapsed. The man caught her and held her while she sobbed.


	2. Chapter One

Fitz surreptitiously peeked over the top of his newspaper, mentally humming _Secret Agent Man_ to himself. Theoretically, he understood why Coulson had chosen him to be the one to make contact with this scientist. He was the only one who’d be able to adequately explain the situation and keep up with her in conversation, after all. But he was hardly a field agent, and he was feeling a little ridiculous. At least no danger was expected. 

“OK, Fitz,” Skye’s voice was loud and unexpected in his ear, and he jumped. He tried not to glance over at the van where his teammate was running comms. “This is her coming up the steps right now.”

He looked towards the steps, excited to get a glimpse of Jemma Simmons, Ph.D., Ph.D. He had (re)read all of her articles in preparation for this meeting, and of course, he had heard her name for years in various academic circles. He knew Coulson was considering cultivating her as a contact, possibly even ultimately recruiting her, instead of just asking her for a quick consultation on the Chitauri virus. She’d be a great asset, and Fitz would love to have someone he could really talk to on the Bus. 

She crested the steps then, and all oxygen and sense left Fitz’ brain with a good supply of blood heading south. He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting, but about his age and drop-dead gorgeous wasn’t it. He whimpered.

“What? What is it?” Skye asked urgently, her voice now in a harsh whisper as if she irrationally feared someone would hear her. 

“She’s…I…wow.”

“Huh?”

“I can’t do this,” Fitz muttered. 

“What? Yes. Yes, you can! You have to! Why not?”

“She’s beautiful,” he murmured, almost unconsciously, and then Skye’s peals of laughter snapped him out of his haze. 

“Go get her, stud.”

“Shut up,” he hissed, folding his newspaper and standing as he watched her sit down on the other side of the fountain and pull a bagel from the paper sack she carried. 

By the time he made it over to her, she had laid out her small lunch on her lap and was blowing into her drink to cool it down. He felt almost bad interrupting her on what was probably a much needed break, but he forged on. He stopped just in front of her and cleared his throat.

“Dr. Simmons?”

She startled and looked up at him quickly, raising a hand to block out the sun behind him. 

“Yes?” she sounded confused and a little wary.

He flipped open his badge, trying not to notice his hands shaking with nerves. “S.H.I.E.L.D. That is, uh, I’m from S.H.I.E.L.D., the Strategic – ”

“I know what it is,” she interrupted (thankfully) before he had to try and remember the whole name. He wasn’t entirely sure he remembered _his_ name at the moment. “The whole New York thing, right?”

“Do you have a moment?”

She looked at him for what felt like an unbearably long time. Finally, she nodded, scooting over as if to invite him to sit down. He settled on the bench, trying not to notice the way their knees almost touched as they angled towards each other. 

“My name’s Fitz,” he started – and thank God, he managed to sound halfway normal, “and – ”

“Not,” she interrupted. “Sorry, not Leo Fitz? You wrote the cover article for the last issue of _Science_?”

“Uh, yes. But just Fitz. Not…” He cringed, not even able to say his first name out loud. What had his parents been thinking?

“That was a brilliant article!” she continued. “But I was thinking about your results, because you see, I think if you used a different catalyst, then you…oh, I’m sorry.” She turned a pretty shade of red and looked away. Fitz quickly closed his mouth, which had dropped open in surprise – and slight annoyance at Skye cackling in his ear. He could feel the blush darkening his face, which only made it worse.

“Why – why are you here?” she continued, trying to get them back on subject. 

“Um…” He tilted his head down, closed his eyes for a brief second, and breathed. “It’s about the New York thing actually. A few weeks ago some firefighters…”

**

If Fitz was honest with himself, he kind of wished that Jemma Simmons wasn’t as smart as she obviously was. Only two weeks had passed since their first meeting, and she was already much too close to figuring out a vaccine (“It’s really more of an antiserum, Fitz. How many times…”) for the Chitauri virus. Pretty soon she’d be done, and the team would be on its way secure in the knowledge that S.H.I.E.L.D. would be able to respond to another outbreak. No more dinners tucked away in corner booths discussing her progress and brainstorming ideas she could try at the lab the next day, in between her real work duties. No more late-night visits to her house to drop off supplies and pick up copies of her results. No more getting sidetracked talking about anything and everything as they got to know each other better.

No more desperately wanting to kiss her. No more… _relaxing_ back in his bunk after their meetings as he thought about the way her hair hung over her shoulders and how she smiled in delight whenever she described a recent breakthrough and how his name sounded coming out of her mouth and how much better it would sound if she were shouting it in pleasure. 

No more Skye teasing him mercilessly about Nerd Love. So that was one positive, at least.

**

Jemma wanted to cry or scream or something, maybe even laugh hysterically, as she watched Fitz pack up the antiserum, along with detailed instructions on how to make more. Three weeks ago, she had been perfectly content with her life – her work, her friends, her tiny but comfortable house. But now, now she wanted so much more, and he was about to walk out the door. Possibly forever. Some small corner of her brain knew that he must feel it too, the connection that sprung up between them almost instantaneously. She had never worked so seamlessly with another person, never felt so alive talking science, never felt the urge to forget about science, for that matter, and focus on other, more delightful forms of chemistry. She had dated, of course, and been with her share of men, but nothing like this. No one like Fitz. And they had never even –

He turned in her direction then, clearing his throat and running one palm down the side of his trousers. “So, um. Coul – my boss, he wanted me to stress how appreciative we are. And – and, you know, if there’s ever…” He finally made eye contact with her and his voice trailed off.

Jemma nodded, perhaps too quickly. “If there’s ever anything else you need that I can help with, obviously.”

“Yeah,” Fitz breathed out, seemingly unable to do much more than stare at her. Something in his expression made Jemma decide to take a leap of faith. She just hoped he wouldn’t let her fall.

“And if you ever…I mean, it doesn’t have to be alien-related or anything. If you just want to grab dinner next time you’re in town…”

Fitz’ sudden smile was nearly blinding. “Yeah,” he replied gratifyingly eagerly, and Jemma exhaled in relief. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

“Good. OK. Um.”

They stared at each other then, unsure how to say goodbye and desperately not wanting to, anyway. Jemma swallowed, searching for something to say. And then Fitz jumped in surprise, putting a hand to his ear and ducking his head as he mumbled a reply. He looked back up at her then with a very unhappy expression.

“That was – I have to go. We have a new case and…”

Jemma nodded quickly, pasting on an understanding smile. She tried to appear casual and calm, putting her hand out to shake Fitz’ before he left. He took it, his warm hand squeezing hers, rough calluses from too many hours working with small electronics and bits of metal rubbing against her smoother skin. She only had seconds to enjoy the contact, and then he let go. He turned around, heading for the door, and Jemma fought everything inside her from calling out or chasing after him. Honestly, she was a grown woman. She had two Ph.D.s. She would not let a man turn her into…this, no matter how curly his hair was or how blue his eyes.

And then he set down the case and spun back around, crossing the room to her again in only a few large steps, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her close, pulling her into a kiss that she felt to the tips of her toes. After only a second of surprise, she lifted her arms around his neck and opened her mouth, allowing his tongue to slide in and a moan to slip out. 

Far, far too quickly, it was over. She kept her eyes closed, savoring the feel of his hands on the small of her back as they rested their foreheads against each other and tried to catch their breaths.

“Next time I’m in town,” he murmured, his voice rough and deep, the brogue thickening with desire.

Jemma nodded, not trusting her own voice.

**

He texted her two days later, a brief “Thinking of you” that distracted her from work for nearly half an hour.

A picture sent over email (“How did you get my address?!” “I’m a spy, Simmons. In case you didn’t realize.”) of a group of monkeys. They were somewhere in South America, apparently, and he said his teammates had to bodily drag him away before he _accidentally_ collected one as a sample/adorable little lab assistant. 

Phone calls at all hours of the night, because for a genius, he always forgot about minor things like time zones. But she didn’t mind too much, listening to the lilt of his voice as he talked, imagining he was there next to her in her too-big, too-empty bed, holding her as he shared the clearance level 0 details of his day. She’d start to stroke the fingers of one hand along her stomach, dropping ever lower until she realized what she was doing and flushed with shame. Sometimes he didn’t notice how her voice got breathless and her responses a little too delayed – he was too busy with whatever she could hear clunking around in the lab or shouting back and forth with the computer hacker on the team (a woman whose name was Sk-something and who came up a little too frequently in their conversations for Jemma to be entirely comfortable. At least the mention of her usually quickly snapped Jemma out of the moment before she said or did anything too embarrassing…).

But sometimes, usually when it was night for him too and he was curled up in his bunk on the plane (“Oh my God, Jemma, I’m not exactly a huge man and I still think it’s too small. I don’t know how W – the others manage.”), he did seem to realize what he could do to her with just his words. She’d hear the sly grin on his face as his voice dropped into a low murmur. Her eyes would close, and her hand would flatten on her stomach, the tip of her pinky teasing lower. She’d barely remember what they talked about later, pretty sure it didn’t really matter anyway. 

And every call, every text, every email would end the same – “Next time I’m in town.” It had turned into a promise Jemma couldn’t wait to have filled.


	3. Chapter Two

“OK,” Marci laughed as Jemma desperately tried to wipe up the spilled solution before it dripped off the end of the lab bench. “What’s his name?”

“Huh?”

“The guy who’s got you so…well, we’ll go with _worked up_. You do have a date tonight, don’t you?”

“Um…”

“That’s what I thought.”

“No!” Jemma replied quickly, too quickly. “It’s not that big of a deal. Dinner with an engineer I met a few weeks ago.”

“Uh-huh.”

“What?” Jemma tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and pretended to focus all her attention on her task.

“You’ve been distracted for weeks and smiling way, way too much. You got a haircut and a manicure sometime yesterday, and I bet you two, no _three_ , weekend shifts you’ve shaved your legs for this not-a-big-deal dinner date.”

Jemma felt her cheeks flush. “No bet.”

Marci clapped her hands in excitement. “Tell me more.”

Jemma sighed, glancing around quickly to make sure no one else was listening, and then leaned in conspiratorially. It felt entirely too high school, but since she had been prepubescent in high school, being giddy in l…like. Giddy in _like_ with someone and gossiping about boys was also a bit of an exciting new experience.

**

Fitz felt a bit like an idiot and a bit like he was going to throw up. He was wearing a sweater that Skye said looked really good ("No, like _really good_ ") on him and holding flowers that May had picked out (he wasn’t entirely sure if he or Skye was more shocked when she appeared holding them). Ward had clapped him on the back and tried to hand him a condom, which Fitz had haughtily refused (besides, he already had one, OK. Not that…he didn’t want to presume or anything. Precaution.) Even Coulson had gotten in on it, giving Fitz unsolicited advice about the best restaurants in town and how he should be a gentleman and maybe take her dancing (oh God, what if she wanted to go dancing?!).

“Stop. Just stop worrying,” he said to himself. Lifting his free hand to his neck, he checked the knot in his tie and then reached forward to knock on the door. 

There was really no cause to be nervous anyway. He knew Jemma amazingly well, by this point. Between working with her on the Chitauri virus for weeks, and then so many more weeks of phone and text conversations… He knew she liked him. Maybe not as much as he liked her, because he wasn’t sure that was possible, but she had been the one to ask him out, after all. And he wasn’t so inexperienced as to not realize what was happening when her voice got all soft and slow and he could hear the rustling slide of her sheets through the phone. So. Yes. No reason to be nervous.

Jemma opened the door, and all the air rushed out of Fitz’ lungs. It wasn’t even an exaggeration to say his vision blurred a bit as his brain tried to reboot itself. She was wearing a dress that hugged her in all the right places and left just enough to the imagination. Her hair was down, and her smile was wide, and Fitz wondered if it was too soon to propose. 

“You look…um…” he held out the bouquet, and damn it, his hands were shaking again. “Nice.” 

Nice?! _God._

Her smile turned bashful, and she dropped her eyes from his. Stepping forward, she took the bouquet, her fingers accidentally but maybe on purpose sliding along his hand. 

“Thank you,” she murmured. “My favorite.”

“Really?” he asked, the surprise breaking him out of his stupor as he tried not to wonder how exactly May had known what kind to get. Best not to think about that too much.

“Oh, yes,” Jemma replied, turning away. “They’re fascinating, historically, culturally, scientifically…”

Fitz felt rooted to the ground, fascinated only by her. When she realized he wasn’t following her, she flashed him an inviting look over her shoulder.

“Come in.”

**

Jemma suspected she’d never hear the end of this, if – or face it, when – Marci wheedled it out of her, but as soon as she saw Fitz standing there, in a handsome gray sweater and holding a bunch of daffodils of all things, she knew they weren’t going to make dinner. If they needed sustenance later, to keep their energy up, she’d scrape a meal together from the meager supplies in her fridge. Maybe it wasn’t quite proper, planning to seduce him before they even went on an official date, but this was hardly a typical relationship and Jemma couldn’t really bring herself to care about societal mores, anyway.

Fitz, who was adorably nervous and randomly complimenting her house as if it were the first time he’d seen it, obviously didn’t know what was about to hit him, and she had to fight a bit of a smirk. As she transferred the flowers to a vase, he finally settled on a more appropriate conversation topic.

“I didn’t make any reservations. Is there anything you feel like? Coul – I’ve heard there’s a good Thai place on twenty…”

He trailed off as Jemma finished messing about with the flowers and moved closer to him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and stepped into his personal space. He smiled, one hand coming to rest on the small of her back.

“Hi,” she whispered.

“Hi.” One eyebrow went up, mostly teasing but also a little uncertain. “Um…everything OK?”

Jemma nodded slowly, giving him her best bedroom eyes. He sucked in his lower lip, trapping it between his teeth, and she wanted to laugh, she was so full of joy and anticipation. 

“On 24th street. It is good,” she finally said.

Confusion and disappointment sped across his face, and she very nearly did laugh then. Instead, she pulled him close, finally ( _finally_ ) feeling his lips on hers again. It seemed impossible to believe that they had only kissed once before. It all seemed so right, so natural. She inhaled sharply, deeply through her nose, intensifying the kiss briefly before she put her hand on his chest and pushed just enough to break away. 

“Know my favorite part about that restaurant?” she asked, her voice almost embarrassingly husky.

Fitz was breathing heavily, and a moment later, when he managed to open his eyes, she could see his pupils were blown wide with arousal. “What?”

“They deliver.”

And that was the only cue he needed. Before she knew it, they had stumbled their way to her bedroom, losing his jumper and her shoes and his tie and her dress by the time they got there. She nearly collapsed as she sat down on the foot of the bed and immediately set to work on his belt while he toed his shoes off and pulled his wallet out of his back pocket. He muttered to himself for a second as he flipped through it, before she took it from him and threw it across the room.

“There’s some in the drawer. I bought a whole box.”

He looked at her in surprise, maybe even a bit of uncertainty at her apparent expectations, and she grinned. “I like to be prepared.”

She timed that statement almost perfectly, pulling his trousers down past his hips and giving an appreciative glance towards the bulge tenting out his shirt, before she slid back fully onto the bed. She reached behind herself, quickly undoing the clasp of her bra and letting her breasts spill out, then just as quickly shimmying out of her knickers. It took him only moments to recover and finish undressing, and then he was crawling up the bed after her.

They eventually called for delivery.

**

She fit absolutely perfectly in the crook of his arm, and it was like his shoulder was designed for her to rest her head on it. And yes, she knew that was nonsense and any good scientist should scoff at such foolish thoughts, but she couldn’t help it. He traced patterns on her shoulder with the hand of the arm wrapped around her, his finger every so often traveling upwards to stroke lightly at the sensitive skin of her neck, making her shiver. She played with the fingers of his other hand, admiring them even as she remembered just how dexterous they were. _Lots_ of practice manipulating delicate objects, that’s for sure.

She tilted her head up to look at him, smiling to herself when she saw he had his eyes closed and the corners of his mouth were curled ever so slightly. Feeling her gaze, he turned to her and made eye contact. She grinned fully and he bent closer, kissing her temple.

“Wow,” he finally said.

She simply hummed in agreement. 

“I mean, it’s been a while, so…but even objectively, wow.”

She twisted to look up at him again. “Been a while?”

“Well,” he shrugged, clearly kind of embarrassed at the reveal he probably hadn’t meant to make.

“Here I figured you had a girl in every port, double-oh-seven.”

“What?” He faced her, suddenly wide awake and sincere as he pulled her closer. “Jemma, no. I would never – you have to know – I mean, you – I – ”

“Relax, Fitz. I was teasing,” she cut him off, sliding a hand up to his cheek. 

He stuttered for a few more seconds before finally saying, “No, I know you were joking. That’s fine.”

“A girl in one port, at least?”

Fitz nodded, his eyes never leaving hers, and she couldn’t help but wonder what he would have said earlier, if she had let him finish his sentence. She was a little too nervous to find out, though, so she leaned forward and kissed him again. Things got heated pretty fast, unsurprisingly, and moments later she was straddling him and reaching one hand out for the box in her nightstand drawer.

**

“Aw yeah, playa,” Skye crowed when Fitz walked up the ramp of the plane the next morning. “Out all night, huh? I take it dinner with the famous Dr. Simmons went well.”

He shook his head, cursing his pale skin and the blush he knew was creeping up his neck. “A gentleman never tells.”

Skye didn’t respond. She just reached over and tapped something on her tablet. Marvin Gaye started singing, and Fitz rolled his eyes. 

“Lucky for you, Coulson said we’re grounded for a couple more days. He didn’t get the info that he wanted, so he’s meeting with Fury tomorrow to re-strategize.”

Fitz threw his hands up in the air, slightly annoyed. “You couldn’t have called and told me that? You made me come all the way back here?”

Skye shrugged. “Wanted to tease you. Besides, it gave you a convenient out, if you needed one. Or wanted one.”

“I didn’t,” Fitz said, already walking down the ramp again and pulling out his phone. 

Skye made a schmoopy face. “Awww,” she called after him. “My little boy’s all grown up and making booty calls.”

“I’m five years older than you,” he shouted back. And then Jemma picked up the phone on the other end, and he forgot Skye entirely. “Hey, guess what?”

**

Their communication became simultaneously sweeter and steamier, and yet remained distinctively them. Over the course of one day, Fitz could send her a text message telling her how much he missed her and an email with a link to an article he thought she’d be interested in, and then call her later and practically growl into her ear until her whole body tingled. Jemma knew she was in trouble; she had never been this distracted before, certainly not by a man. She had goals and plans for her life, and none of them had ever included skipping out of work early just to make it home for a planned Skype date.

At the same time, she had never been more productive. Marci was great, and really wonderful at what she did, but having someone like Fitz to bounce ideas off of had made a huge difference in her research, and she knew he appreciated input on the few things he could tell her about. They were even working on an article together, emailing drafts back and forth with revisions and suggestions and exasperated comments whenever one of them refused to budge on data interpretations. 

It was turning into an amazing partnership, in more ways than one, and so it shouldn’t have surprised Jemma when things crashed down. They had to have a fight (a real fight, not just sickeningly cute bickering) eventually. And in the end, it was such a stupid fight too. It came when Fitz’ team were trying to figure out the properties of a mystery serum that apparently could turn people into supersoldiers. At least, that’s what she learned when Sk-something the computer hacker barged her way into their conversation and started explaining the whole situation to Jemma. 

“Uh, I’m pretty sure that’s classified information,” Fitz talked over her.

“ _Uh_ , no. You heard AC. He wants to hear what she thinks about it.”

“And I said no.”

“Which I don’t get, because you know she’s the perfect person to ask.”

“I don’t feel comfortable using – ”

“She was a S.H.I.E.L.D. asset before she was your girlfriend.”

“Um, guys,” Jemma broke in, feeling a little confused and, oddly, a bit hurt that Fitz was so adamant she shouldn’t be helping. “I’m still here.”

“Yeah, you’re right. You are. So, hey, since Fitz refuses to ask you no matter how often our boss brings it up, ever think about joining S.H.I.E.L.D.?”

“Skye!” Jemma didn’t know what surprised her more – that Fitz had finally, accidentally revealed the name of one of his teammates, or the anger in his voice, or the question. 

There was an uncomfortably long silence, and then frantic whispering on the other end that Jemma couldn’t quite make out. Moments later, the sound quality changed and Jemma knew she was no longer on speakerphone. 

“Jemma?”

“Fitz.”

“So, um…”

“Are you trying to recruit me? Is that what this all has been about?” It was a paranoid question, and she didn’t even know where it came from, but as soon as the words exited her mouth, she could feel herself start to panic. What if it was true? 

“No! God, no. Of course not. Obviously, they’d take you in a heartbeat, but I’ve been trying to hold off asking you.”

And that was somehow even worse. “Because…you don’t want me there?”

“Of _course_ I do. It’d be amazing to have you here with me, but…it’s so dangerous.”

“Any more dangerous than it is for you?” Jemma inhaled and exhaled deeply, fighting almost irrational tears as this conversation dragged her to a topic she tried not to think about too much. “So, it’s OK for me to sit here, wondering what alien virus or evil villain might take you away from me, while you travel the world seeing unimaginable wonders?”

There was a long pause. “Do you…do you want to join?”

“No! I like my job,” she shouted into the phone. 

“Then…I’m so confused.”

“I’m a grown woman, genius! I have the right to make up my own damn mind. My boyfriend doesn’t have a say in where I work, OK?! Now send me the details on that serum!” She pulled the phone away from her ear and pressed the end call button as firmly as possible. She missed the old days, when she could have slammed the receiver down.


	4. Chapter Three

Fitz finally gave up, sighing as he set his screwdriver down. He wasn’t accomplishing anything, hadn’t for _days_. The last he had heard from Jemma was a very terse _Thank you_ in reply to his email with the information on the serum. He had thought about contacting her a few times (an hour) since then, but he…was kind of afraid to. What if she didn’t want to talk to him? What if she was still angry? What if she broke up with him? He hated this.

The worst part was, he wasn’t even entirely sure what he did wrong. Yes, obviously, Jemma could make up her own mind and maybe he was being overprotective, but she said she didn’t even want to work for S.H.I.E.L.D., so what did it matter if he had never asked her? And the way she had just started yelling so suddenly! Fitz was pretty sure she had been about to cry when she hung up on him, and the thought that he had done that and then wasn’t even there to apologize and hug her and, whatever, hand her tissues just ate away at his gut until he was starting to feel sick about it. 

Coulson walked into the lab then, and Fitz immediately picked up his screwdriver again. He didn’t need to be yelled at for skiving off on the job on top of everything else.

“You’re not fooling anyone,” Coulson said by way of hello. 

Fitz sighed, lifting a hand to rub at his eyes. “Sorry, sir. I just – ”

“So,” Coulson continued as if Fitz hadn’t spoken, leaning against the lab table. “Change of plans. We’re heading to D.C. for a few days.”

“But sir, what about the – ?”

Coulson shrugged. “Not important. I don’t really think it’s an 084 anyway. The local field team will assess it, and if it turns out to be something after all, then we’ll go.”

Fitz just stared at him, unable to find any words.

“While we’re there, I need you to check in with Dr. Simmons. See if she’s figured out anything regarding the formula. That’s my priority right now.”

“Sir, I – ”

“That’s an order, Agent Fitz.”

Fitz slumped in his seat, somewhat resigned and somewhat relieved. “Yes, sir.”

Coulson tapped the table twice and then turned to head out. He almost made it to the door before he stopped and faced Fitz again. 

“While we’re there, you might want to think about things.”

Fitz tilted his head in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Your priorities are changing.” Coulson held up a hand to stop Fitz’ attempts at denial. “And that’s fine, I understand. You’re a fantastic agent, Fitz, and I’m happy to have you on my team. I’d be happy to have her, if that’s what she wanted. But, and yes this is me saying this, S.H.I.E.L.D. isn’t everything. And it often – not always, but often – prevents a lot of things too. Things like…having someone to come home to. Having a family. You two seem to have something really special. You might have to decide, someday soon, what kind of life you want.”

**

Fitz groaned, burying his face in her neck, breathing the scent of her in and flicking his tongue out to taste her skin. She writhed against him, her fingers grasping and releasing his hair, her legs wrapped around him. His arms were shaking from the effort of holding her against the wall just next to her front door, but gravity was also working in their favor, sinking her deep onto his length. Wet heat clenching all around him and – good God.

Make-up sex might just be the best kind of sex.

**

There weren’t a whole lot of things Jemma loved more than talking science with Fitz. But probably one of those things was talking science while she leaned against him, wearing nothing but his shirt that she pulled on after showering together to clean up from surprise, crazy-hot, against-the-wall sex.

Maybe they should fight more often, she thought with a smirk. 

He had one arm wrapped around her, his warm palm cupped just below her breast and his thumb periodically caressing up and over her nipple. With his other hand, he kept sweeping her still damp hair aside so he could bend down and kiss her neck. She couldn’t help but tilt her head slightly to give him more room to work.

“Are you listening to me?” she asked, her voice a little too breathless to sound appropriately stern.

“Mm-hmm,” he murmured. “The formula. Tell me all about it.”

But he didn’t sound too attentive, particularly because at that very moment, he slipped his hand down, reaching below the hem of her (or his – _semantics_ ) shirt. The tips of his fingers teased at her, and she gasped, her eyes closing even as her mouth fell open. 

“Fitz,” she attempted to scold.

“Sorry.” She could hear the smile in his voice, and then suddenly he stopped moving. “I am sorry, you know,” he added, almost urgently.

Jemma twisted to look back at him. “I know,” she replied, equally sincere. “I am too. We covered this already.”

He opened his mouth as if to speak again, and Jemma surged upwards, silencing him with a kiss. “Fitz, it’s OK. Couples fight,” she reminded him after breaking away. “And then they make up.”

“And I really like that part,” he said with a saucy grin, his fingers starting to stroke her again. “I just didn’t like the part that came before, so let’s try not to do that too much.”

“Deal,” Jemma agreed. Then she tossed the file folder with her preliminary analyses of the serum onto her coffee table. It could wait; they had more making up to do.

**

Fitz looked down at her, hesitant to wake her up. She looked so peaceful sleeping. But he had received a text from Coulson very early that morning. The item in Norway wasn’t an 084, but its origins were decidedly not of this world (Asgardian!) and they needed to get a move on. Their trip to D.C. was cut short.

He bent down to kiss her softly, and she stirred. Her eyes blinked open sleepily as she gave him a lazy smile.

“I didn’t want to wake you, but I’m glad you’re up.”

She noticed then that he was fully dressed, and she sighed. “You have to go?”

“Afraid so.”

“Well,” she replied, forcing him to pull back slightly as she sat up. “At least we had a few hours.”

He nodded, feeling frustrated. “I wanted to – this isn’t the only reason I come to see you, test results and sex.”

“I know, Fitz. Don’t worry.” She tried to be as supportive as possible, but if she had to admit it, he wasn’t the only one feeling like they never had enough time to be together. If she had to admit it, she had started to seriously think about the job offer, despite her emphatic refusal earlier. Soon, maybe. Not yet. She had other questions she wanted to answer first, before she and Fitz tackled all the questions of the universe open to S.H.I.E.L.D., all the things he hinted at but could never fully tell her.

“Be careful,” she finally added.

“Of course, Jemma,” he promised. “I told you. I’m not a field agent. I stay nice and safe in my lab.”

“Most of the time, you said. Most of the time. And besides, labs can be just as danger – ”

He cut her off with a kiss. And then another one, and then another, and then he pulled away.

“It’s so hard to say goodbye to you,” he whispered, avoiding her eyes. “I don’t know yet what exactly I want from my life. I just know I want you in it.”

She lifted both hands to his cheeks, holding him still as she kissed him one last time. The small space between them was feeling far too intimate, and far too sad. She hesitated, wanting to tell him how much she loved him. And then before she could, his phone beeped and he tore away with a curse. He stood up and smiled at her. The moment was gone. 

“Go back to sleep,” he suggested. “It’s early still.”

Later, when she made her way out to the living room, she saw the file folder was missing from her table. In its place, folded neatly, was his t-shirt. She bent down to pick up the piece of paper on it, and grinned at his messy scrawl informing her it looked better on her.

**

_How are your parents liking D.C.?_

_They love it! Plus, my brothers surprised me by coming too. They had lots of questions about you._

_Are the men in your family particularly large? Just curious._

_Very large. They played rugby. My dad too._

_Great._

**

_Paper accepted! Published sometime next summer which of course really means next autumn!_

_Was there ever any doubt?_

_Forwarding you the email from the editor._

_K_

**

_We ended up in Scotland this week. Mom! Mom’s home-cooking! If only you were here, I could die happy right now._

_You aren’t eating haggis or something equally revolting, are you?_

_Ach, lass. Also, my mom wants your email address so she can send you baby pictures. I told her you were a Luddite and didn’t know how to work a computer._

_No! I want baby pictures!_

_Too bad._

**

_I printed out that selfie you took at the Great Wall and hung it up at my desk. Marci says, and I quote, “You’ve got it bad, girl.”_

_Skye said something similar the other day when I checked my phone for the 80th time that morning. I don’t know where they get these silly ideas._

**

“Hi!”

“Oh my God, hi. Is it really you?”

Jemma scooted her chair closer to her desk, her eyes flicking rapidly between the webcam on her laptop and the image of his face on her screen. “It’s really me.”

“Jemma, it’s been so long. So long.”

“Tell me about it. You better be coming home next week. You promised.”

“I swear to God, if Coul – anyone even tries to change his mind, I’ll just parachute out of this plane and swim across the ocean.”

“I’ll be at the shore, waiting with a towel.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

They smiled widely at each other for a second, and then Jemma remembered why they had planned this Skype chat in the first place.

“Oh! Happy birthday! You can open your present now!”

“Thank you, I will,” Fitz replied, leaning forward to click on an email from Jemma with the subject line _Don’t open until I say you can_. “Nude pictures, nude pictures, nude pictures. Please.”

She laughed. “Sorry, no.”

The teasing grin fell off his face, replaced by slight confusion as he read the email. Slowly, his eyebrows rose and his mouth dropped open.

“You can’t be serious.”

“Do you like it?”

“Like it? Jemma! You got me a monkey.”

“An ape, Fitz. There’s a difference. Taxonomically speaking – ”

“I don’t care.”

“And you don’t really get to keep it. But the conservation reserve sends you periodic updates and pictures.”

“Jemma, I can’t believe this. This is the best gift I’ve ever…oh my God, I love you so much.”

It shouldn’t have surprised her but it did, and a tiny squeak escaped her mouth. He seemed to realize what he said then, and the shock warring with the fear on his face almost made her laugh. She’d have to tease him a bit, just a bit, before she took him out of his misery.


	5. Chapter Four

“I love you, I love you, I love you.” Each declaration accompanied a kiss, a lick, a suck, as he worked his way down her body. 

“I’m starting to get that message,” she replied, smiling up at her ceiling, but the teasing tone was soon replaced by small moans and gasps as he reached his destination. She rotated her pelvis, pressing herself closer, and he moved one hand to her hip to hold her steady. 

And then neither of them said much of anything for a while as he did unspeakable things with his tongue. She was still floating down from her climax, when he kissed his way back up her body and then moved away, reaching for the bedside table drawer. 

Seconds later, he froze, snapping Jemma out of her euphoria.

“No,” he breathed out. “No, no, no.”

“What?”

He held up the box and shook it. It was clearly empty. She sat up quickly, trying not to panic. 

“Do you have one?”

He shook his head, and ran his hand through his hair. “No, I - shit.” 

They stared at each other, their faces reflecting equal amounts of despair. And then Fitz started to move off the bed.

“OK, I’ll just run to the store real quick and – ”

Jemma grabbed his arm, cutting him off and pulling him back.

“Jemma?”

“Shh.” She squinted, thinking. It wasn’t like there weren’t alternatives but…

“Jemma, what?”

“I’m doing the math.”

He stared at her incredulously, but with just a hint of surprised lust. His eyes roamed her body, dropping down to where they could be touching, nothing between them, and she lost count. 

“Fuck it,” she said, partly because he always got a little bit rougher if she started swearing, and straddled him, reaching down to stroke him back to full hardness. “We’ll probably be OK, just this once.”

“Jemma,” he tried again, his voice strained as she positioned herself above him. “We’re geniuses. We’re smarter than this.”

“You’re right,” she nodded, trying to shut out the voice in her brain shouting at her even as she dropped lower, teasing against his tip. “Your call.”

They held each other’s gaze and Jemma couldn’t breathe, and then he was flipping her onto her back as he slid into her. She groaned, her head dropping back, and he latched onto her neck, sucking as his hips rocked faster and faster.

“Fitz,” she choked out. “Oh, Fitz. I love you.”

He slowed at that, reaching one hand up to tilt her face down so they could make eye contact. She couldn’t look away, couldn’t blink. It was the most reckless, most intimate moment of her entire life. 

“This is…” he finally said.

“Yeah.”

“I’ve never…”

“Me neither.”

“You’re so…”

“I’m going on the pill,” she blurted, making a mental note to schedule an appointment once she could take some time off work. She knew it was silly, knew it wasn’t really _that_ much better, but…she wasn’t going back to condoms. Not after this.

“You hate the pill,” he reminded her, grunting softly as he repositioned her leg. “It gives you weird moods.”

“I hate it less than I love this. Oh my _God_.”

Fitz never did make the trip to the store, not even the next morning. It became a little too easy to justify finishing that weekend the way they had started it.

**

Jemma wasn’t sure how many hours or maybe even days had passed since the man had appeared at her door. If he told her his name, she didn’t remember it nor did she care. The only thing she could focus on was what he was saying to her, the story he told about a plane and someone Fitz had believed to be a friend and a medical pod and the ocean and a beacon that was too weak, picked up too late. She had told the man then to get out, to leave her alone. She crumpled up and threw away the piece of paper with the number he had written down. She didn’t want anything to do with S.H.I.E.L.D. ever again. And then she curled up on her couch and hadn’t moved.

He must have been so scared, even as he was brave. Did he think of her? He must have. If only she had been down there, maybe they could have come up with a solution together. If not, they would have at least had each other. He wouldn’t have been alone. 

Had water seeped in, drowning him? The man hadn’t said. Maybe he ran out of oxygen. Either one would have been horrific. If only she knew who the bastard was, the one who had betrayed Fitz’ trust. She’d kill him with her bare hands.

“Oh, Fitz,” she whimpered, reaching one hand up to wipe away the tears that were flowing again.

There was a knock at her front door, but she ignored it even as it got more insistent. And then she heard a key in the door. Marci. It had to be.

“Jemma?” Her friend’s voice was quiet and concerned. “Honey, you OK? Are you still sick? No one’s heard from you for a while.”

Jemma sighed and pushed herself up with one arm. The sudden movement, and no doubt dehydration and hunger, made her dizzy. She took a breath and exhaled slowly.

“I’m here,” she called out.

Marci stepped into the darkened living room. “Oh my God, girl. What happened to you? You look – ”

“He’s dead.” She needed to say it. It just needed to be out there, undeniable. Maybe then she could start to figure out a way to keep going. 

“What?” Marci breathed out. She hurried over to the couch, sitting down and putting a hand on Jemma’s shoulder. 

“Fitz is – was S.H.I.E.L.D.,” Jemma said, her voice wavering but becoming stronger with each word. “I never told you that, but he was. He was killed in the battle with Hydra.”

“All that stuff in the news with Captain America?” 

Jemma nodded. 

“Oh my God. I am so – I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what to do.”

“It’s worse,” Jemma continued, lifting her eyes to her friend. “You were right.”

Marci shook her head imperceptibly. “About what?”

“I’m pregnant. I took a test a couple days ago.”

“Oh God, Jemma.”

They were both silent for a long moment. And then Marci inhaled deeply, blowing out the breath in determination. “Well, at least now I know what to do. Have you seen your doctor?”

Jemma shook her head, looking down at her lap. 

“OK, food first, shower second. Then we’ll set up an appointment.” Marci stood and walked away as she spoke, disappearing into the kitchen. A few seconds later, a shout came echoing back into the room. “Is this all you have? Jemma!”

Jemma placed a hand on her stomach, feeling a little anxious that she had almost forgotten, that she had just lain there, not taking care of herself or the life growing inside her. A few days ago, she had been so worried about what would happen when she told Fitz, if she could be a mother, if she even wanted to be. And now, she couldn’t imagine anything else. This tiny clump of cells who would be the last thing she had of Fitz, who might have his eyes or his smile or his temper. She could only hope the last few days of neglect hadn’t been too detrimental. But she knew, between the two of them, it was made of stronger stuff than that. And besides – there needed to be some kind of balance, some kind of potential for the future. The first law of thermodynamics and all. No energy in the universe is created and none is destroyed.

**

Jemma burst into tears at the sound emerging from the monitor. Marci squeezed her shoulder, and Jemma reached up to grasp her friend’s hand.

“Strong and healthy heartbeat. And there’s the little squirt right there,” the tech said. “Do you see it?”

“No!” Jemma practically wailed. 

The tech reached out, tracing along something on the screen. Jemma had two Ph.D.s and was a world-renowned scientist and it looked like a blob to her. 

“Don’t worry,” Marci said. “It’ll get cuter.”

**

She didn’t know who was grumbling loudest, her brothers or her dad or Marci’s husband. But between the four of them, they got the nursery painted (“A monkey theme, Jemma? Really?”) and the crib set up and were now sprawled throughout her living room, drinking well-deserved beers.

She ignored their whining and leaned forward to pick up the next gift bought for her impromptu, small baby shower. It was the cutest little tartan blanket she had ever seen, and she _aww_ ed her gratitude at Marci.

“Hey,” she said. “Got to make sure the Scottish side is represented, right?”

Jemma’s throat closed up painfully. “I wish I knew how to contact his mom. She deserves to know.”

Tommy piped up from the corner. “I wish I could have a conversation with him and a shotgun. Defiling my baby sister.” 

Everyone laughed, rescuing Jemma from accidentally stumbling into a depressed mood again.

**

Jemma couldn’t sleep. Her back was killing her, and she couldn’t get comfortable, and it felt like the baby was using her bladder as a pillow. She grabbed the journal off her bedside table, shuffled into the nursery and sat in the rocking chair. She may as well get used to spending the wee hours of the morning in this spot.

She tapped her toes against the ground, kicking off to get the chair swaying back and forth. 

“Ready to hear this masterpiece, baby? Hot off the presses, a groundbreaking new article by Jemma Simmons and Leo Fitz. That’s Mom and Dad to you.”

She started to read out loud, feeling the bittersweet smile begin to form whenever she got to a turn of phrase that was so obviously Fitz she could almost hear his voice.

**

She felt a little sad packing up her bag. It was her last day at work for the foreseeable future, which would mark the first time Jemma Simmons took “vacation” in her life. But it was probably for the best. She hadn’t been able to handle half the materials they worked with anyway, out of concern for what it might do to the baby’s development, and her stomach was becoming a bit of a hazard in and of itself. Marci had taken great pleasure in ordering her to desk duty, finally getting revenge for the three times Jemma had done it to her. It was time, though. She’d still work from home, for a while at least, typing up results and preparing manuscripts and probably spending an irresponsible amount of time writing out different name combinations to see how they looked.

Jemma sighed, picked up her purse, and headed for the office door. As she walked, she rubbed at her lower back, which had been bothering her all day. She flicked off the light, and stepped out into the larger common room. Turning back around, she reached for the knob so she could lock the door.

And promptly dropped her keys. 

“Damn it,” she muttered. Trying to pick things up off the floor was quite a challenge at the moment. She squatted and contorted and nearly fell over twice, but she finally managed to grab the keys. And then she felt a slight twinge, like maybe she had pulled a muscle in her back. 

And then she felt a sharp pain.

“Oh my God,” she breathed out, dropping to her knees and leaning forward on all fours. “Ow, ow, ow. _Marci!_ ”

There was a clatter from down the hall, and then footsteps echoing as they got closer to her. Her friend appeared in the doorway. 

“Shit!”

“It’s too early!” Jemma was trying very hard not to freak out.

“Oh honey,” Marci said, hurrying closer and reaching a hand out to help her to her feet. “It’s really, really not.”

**

“I hate him. I hate him so much!”

“I know you do. Ice chip?”

“Get that the fuck away from me.”

**

“I want him,” Jemma sobbed. “He should be here. _Why?_ ”

Marci squeezed her hand, and reached up to brush the sweaty hair off Jemma’s forehead.

“I know, sweetheart. I know.”

**

The room was dark and quiet except for the soft mewling and sucking noises. Marci had disappeared somewhere, claiming she was going to make all the necessary phone calls, but Jemma knew she was really just giving her a private moment with her new daughter. The baby was tiny, so tiny. She had only opened her eyes once or twice, but enough for Jemma to see Fitz looking back at her. And when the nurse had given Jemma a crash course in breastfeeding, the baby had latched on almost immediately.

“Bottomless pit of a stomach and really likes my boobs,” Jemma had observed, laughing. “Takes after her dad.”

She couldn’t take her eyes off her. She might be a little biased, but this was clearly the most beautiful baby that had ever existed. 

“Lenore Fitz Simmons,” she whispered. “I love you more than anything in the whole world. And I’m so, so sorry you’ll never know your dad, but I _promise_ you, I will always be there for you. It’s just you and me now, OK? We’ll figure this out together.”


	6. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Potential trigger warning:** There is a brief, non-graphic depiction of violence of a somewhat gender/sex-based nature in this chapter. If you would like to skip this section, send me a message and I'll give you a brief summary of events you need to know for future chapters.

Some days were really good. Jemma felt like she was pretty much a natural, successfully taking to motherhood like she had taken to everything else she attempted in her life. Well, almost everything. The less said about her primary school ambitions of being an actress, the better. Jemma was not very credible when asked to lie or pretend, not even if, as a tree, she had no lines. But she was very good at this, most of the time. Lenore was generally a typical baby, who loved to eat and sleep a great deal, and who loved to be held in her mommy’s arms. 

Some days (and more often, nights) were not so good. Because Lenore also loved to sob when she wasn’t in her mother’s arms. When she wasn’t fed or freshly changed. When she was tired or when she had just woken up. Pretty much all the time, it seemed. Of all Fitz’ less charming characteristics, Lenore seemed to have inherited the tendency to complain – loudly and to anyone who would listen. Particularly when forced out of her comfort zone. 

Many times, she wasn’t entirely sure who was more upset, her or Lenore, by the time the clock struck 2 or 3 or even 4 in the morning. The rocking chair didn’t work. Pacing the floors didn’t work. The clothes dryer and late night drives didn’t work. Jemma’s less-than-stellar singing voice didn’t work. She was a fool for thinking she could do this, especially by herself. She’d glance at the clock and try to remember time zones until it was reasonable to call. And when her mother picked up on the other end, Jemma would burst into tears as well. At least she wasn’t crying for Fitz anymore, she’d remind herself. It was a small comfort. 

Thankfully, Lenore eventually grew out of her incessant crying phase, saving the ear-shattering shrieks for special occasions only. She grew far more interested in gazing almost adoringly at Jemma and, later, reaching for objects she shouldn’t have, and babbling as she looked around the room curiously. Each day grew more fun and exciting as Lenore turned into a little person, but Jemma knew she also couldn’t keep putting off her return to work. And when the time came to leave Lenore at the day care, it was Jemma who couldn’t stop crying.

**

Jemma yawned, rubbing at her eyes as she climbed the stairs to the correct floor of the parking garage. It had been a hellishly long day and all she wanted was to get Lenore from day care and cuddle with her for the rest of the night. Well, she also wanted to be taking the elevator but the baby weight wasn’t going to lose itself.

Finally, finally she was at her floor. She pushed the door open and walked straight for the car, not even noticing at first the windowless van parked next to it. It wasn’t until she was almost there that someone popped out of its front seat, startling her.

“Hi,” the man said.

She struggled for a response, partly out of surprise but mostly because the man was super attractive. She felt a little bad, a little guilty even noticing but…Fitz was dead, not her. And to be honest, she also struggled partly out of nerves, because she wasn’t an idiot and a strange man approaching a lone woman in a dark parking garage raised far too many red flags. 

And then he made an apologetic, somewhat self-deprecating expression and Jemma relaxed slightly. “Do you have jumper cables?” he asked, pointing behind himself at the van.

“Oh! Um…yeah, I think so. Hold on.”

“Oh, thank God,” the man continued, as Jemma took her eyes off him and reached into her purse for her keys. “Winter in D.C., right? Gotta love it.”

“Yeah,” Jemma agreed, pressing the button to unlock her trunk and stepping past him to start searching inside it. “But at least we’re nearing the – oh my God!”

She couldn’t say much more in response to the gun poking into her ribs, but even if she wanted to, the man brought one hand up and covered her mouth. She breathed frantically through her nose, trying to remember at least one move from the self defense class she had taken years ago.

“Don’t worry, Dr. Simmons,” the man said, his voice sounding bizarrely apologetic, almost regretful. “Everything’s going to be perfectly fine, as long as you stay nice and calm.”

How did he know her name? What was happening? She couldn’t let this man take her; she wouldn’t do that to Lenore. And with that thought, Jemma swung her elbow back as hard as she could, connecting with the man’s solar plexus. He grunted, then doubled over, and she ran as fast as her stupid shoes (Why? Why this pair today?!) let her. 

“Stop!” he shouted after her, and she could hear him cocking the gun, but she was almost to the corner of the ramp, and if she could just clear the concrete wall, he wouldn’t have a clear shot. Almost there, almost – 

A black SUV sped around the corner, screeching to a halt just in front of her. Jemma floundered, trying to catch her balance. The back passenger door opened, revealing a young woman with dark hair. She held her hand out to Jemma.

“Get in!”

Jemma hesitated, uncertain. What if it was a trap? 

The woman stretched her hand out further. “I’m Skye! Get in!”

She didn’t need to be told again. Jemma practically threw herself through the door, shrieking as Skye grabbed her and pulled her to the other side of the seat. She heard the door slam and a bullet ping off it, and then the car was speeding away.

“What on earth?!” Jemma finally managed to say, as soon as her breathing and heartbeat got down to a manageable level. “Who – ?”

“That was Grant Ward,” the Asian woman driving the car informed her. “A member of Hydra.”

“ _Hydra?_ What do they want with me?”

The woman glanced at Skye through the rearview mirror, but neither of them answered her. 

“We’ll explain all that once we get you to a secure location. We’ll be there soon.” 

“No.”

“I’m sorry?”

“No, we won’t. We’ll be at Bright Futures soon. Take the next left.”

“Bright Futures?”

“Yes, it’s a horrible name, but I’m not going anywhere without my daughter.”

Next to her, Skye’s mouth dropped open. “ _Daughter?!_ ”

**

Lenore was handling the excitement surprisingly well, all things considered. Due to the lack of a car seat, Jemma held her as tightly as possible while the driver (“Call me May.”) took corners and changed lanes just a little too fast for Jemma’s comfort. Eventually, though, they ended up in a park, of all places, and Jemma was about to ask yet again what the hell was happening when May suddenly veered off the road and…an invisible ramp lowered, revealing the inside of what appeared to be a plane. Jemma’s mouth dropped open in disbelief.

The SUV came to a stop, and May and Skye both immediately opened their doors, climbing out. Jemma was a little slower, still wary and very confused. She finally reached out for the door handle just when it opened for her. On the other side, holding a hand out to escort her from the car, was a very familiar older man.

“You!” It was perhaps not the most intelligent thing she’d said that day.

“Dr. Simmons,” the man said graciously. “I’m afraid we haven’t been formally introduced. My name is Phil Coulson. Welcome to S.H.I.E.L.D.”

“S.H.I.E.L.D. doesn’t exist anymore,” she murmured, taking his hand and standing. But her brain was already working, remembering every single time Fitz began saying _Coul_ \- and then corrected himself. 

“Well, that’s what we wanted people to think. It’s been a pretty hectic year. Let’s talk, shall we?” And then his professional demeanor dropped for a second as he reached a finger out and ran it along Lenore’s chest, smiling at her babble of a response. “Isn’t she something?” he added quietly, practically to himself. 

With that, he led her farther into the plane, guiding her up stairs and through hallways into an office decorated with a vast collection of old-time spy gadgets. He sat down at the desk and gestured at the seat across from it. Jemma sat down slowly, desperately wanting answers but feeling increasingly like they were all carefully evading something. 

“Tea? We actually have a very short flight – you wouldn’t believe the distances this plane can cover in no time at all – or I’d offer you something more substantial.”

“How about an explanation?”

“Right to it then,” he said with a nod. And then he paused, looking at his hands. “Last year, when S.H.I.E.L.D. fell, Ward – that’s the man from the garage – ”

“Is he – is he the one who…” She couldn’t say it. 

“Yes. He was working with several other people, Hydra but not really. They had their own agenda, and, well, they wanted Fitz to work for them.”

“He’d never.” 

“Oh no, of course not.” Coulson sighed. “But the thing is, there’s a reason most S.H.I.E.L.D. agents who are recruited have no families to speak of. The bad guys have no qualms, you see. If you won’t follow their commands willingly, they find other…incentives.”

“What are you saying?” Jemma shifted uncomfortably in her chair, then took a moment to calm a fussing Lenore. Her heart was starting to beat heavily, a strange sense of fear and guilt tickling at the back of her mind.

“They didn’t threaten him; they threatened you. In a way, the only good thing that came out of Fitz being – well, what happened to him, is it removed you from the equation.”

Jemma stared at Coulson for a moment, finally understanding. Fitz died trying to protect her. In some convoluted way, it was her fault. Maybe some part of her always knew that. Knew that, at best, she was a distraction for him on every single mission. At worst, he would be so focused, in those final moments, on her and what losing him would do to her that he wouldn’t be able to fully commit himself to fighting back or finding an escape.

And yet that wasn’t quite everything, was it? She may not have been a trained secret agent, but she could tell he was _still_ holding back.

“ _We’re here_ ,” came May’s voice over the speaker, and at the same time, Jemma felt the plane jolt a bit as it suddenly and rapidly started to lower vertically to the ground. 

“You need to understand, Jemma,” Coulson said, standing and leading her out of the office again, back towards the ramp they had first entered. “Fitz would have done anything, agreed to anything, to keep you safe. We all would have, maybe not for the same reasons as him, but because that’s what S.H.I.E.L.D. is all about.”

“So what changed?” she asked, as they waited for the ramp to lower. “Why did Ward come after me?”

Coulson sighed. “He was in our custody, and he escaped a few days ago. We can only assume he was finally able to pass on some information that made you a bargaining chip again.”

She narrowed her eyes, about to ask him what information he was talking about. But then she heard shouts, someone yelling _let me through_ and _where is she?_ And she knew that voice, but it couldn’t…

It couldn’t possibly…

The ramp finished lowering and standing there was – she felt the blood drain from her face. Almost absent-mindedly she twisted to hand Coulson the baby, not even registering his small noise of alarm as he adjusted his hold on Lenore. She couldn’t feel her feet moving, but they must have been because she was getting closer and closer.

“Jemma,” he whispered brokenly, his face distraught and yet full of awe. “Is it really you?”

She wanted to kiss him, to hug him, to touch him any way she could. She wanted to laugh or scream or fall to her knees and cry. She wanted answers, explanations, apologies. She moved even closer, lifting one hand up toward his face almost reverentially. 

And then she slapped him.

Behind her, Coulson spoke. “I gotta admit. That was not the reaction I was expecting.”


	7. Chapter Six

The secret base was hardly equipped to deal with a baby, but Skye had found a place for Jemma to change what had become a truly disgusting nappy. And thankfully, it proved to be a good enough excuse to clear out of the hangar before any more of her private life went on display for the remnants of S.H.I.E.L.D. 

She couldn’t even begin to put into words what she was feeling, so she simply decided not to feel anything. Nothing at all. And she continued to feel nothing when Fitz appeared in the door, his face still a bit red where her palm had struck, his hair shorter than she remembered it, a day or two’s worth of stubble trailing down into his open collar. It was amazing how absolutely emotion-free she currently was. Lenore needed cleaning up and that’s all that she was concerned about. 

“Is that – is she – ?” She had no time for his stuttering, no desire to listen to him search for the right words. There were no right words.

“No, Fitz,” Jemma replied. She had aimed for breezy but was afraid it came out a touch closer to bitter. “She’s the child of the _other_ man I was madly in love with a year ago.”

She saw his eyes widen slightly when she said _was_ and she realized that, yes, that was it. That was the way to get through this. Past tense. It took her so long to be able to think about him in the past tense. No point in relearning anything else now.

She finished buttoning the snaps of Lenore’s outfit, ignoring the way her hands shook as she did so, and then she picked her up and cradled her close. 

“Jemma, we need to t-talk. I need to…there’s – ”

“There’s nothing to say,” she spoke over him as she stepped closer to the door. “I mourned for you, Fitz. I grieved for so long, I thought my life was ending. But it wasn’t. And I needed to be there for her, really be there. So I moved on, Fitz. I moved past you. She’s the only thing that matters to me now.”

And with that, Jemma gestured pointedly at the door he was blocking. He stepped aside, still staring at her with so many different emotions on his face, she couldn’t even begin to parse them. Luckily for her, she wasn’t like that. Nope. She didn’t feel anything. 

_Lies_ , an inner voice that sounded entirely too much like Marci told her. _All lies._

**

Fitz stormed into the garage, more upset than he could ever remember being in his life. And that was saying something, considering the things he had been forced to accept in the last year. Mack was there waiting, must have known Fitz would come looking for him. And Coulson was there too, but the other people who randomly milled about there doing God knows what had wisely cleared out.

And maybe it would have been better if Fitz took a breath, if he looked to Mack for calming guidance, but he wasn’t feeling particularly charitable. He went directly for Coulson, slamming a hand on the table as he got close.

“Did you know?” he yelled. 

Coulson held a hand up. “No. Fitz – ”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“Fitz, I swear to you, I will get in Koenig’s contraption right now. I did not know about the baby.”

Fitz paced the length of the table, shaking his head as he tried to accept Coulson’s word. There was so much – so much – he growled in frustration and swept the nearest files and equipment off the corner of the table.

“Hey!” Mack shouted, his tried and true signal for getting Fitz to snap out of a tantrum. Fitz dropped his elbows to the table, hiding his face in his arms. He breathed deeply, shuddering, trying to get himself under control. And then he looked up, not quite able to make eye contact with either man as he felt the tears threatening to spill.

“It’s bad enough…She won’t even…how much more can he take from me?”

**

Jemma roamed the hallways, thankful Lenore was finally asleep and avoiding the curious glances she received from the people she passed, until she finally found what she was looking for: a room with a fridge. It had been hours since lunch and she needed food. She had never been particularly conscientious or regular about mealtimes, often forgetting such banalities as she stared into microscopes and Petri dishes. But since she herself had become a source of food for her precious little parasite, she had started to be a bit more responsible. And besides, it was easier right now to focus on the practical things, the necessary steps of surviving a day.

Skye was in the room, talking quietly to a black man. They both turned to face her, Skye’s smile seeming overly innocent and welcoming, so Jemma was able to guess the topic of conversation. The man’s smile seemed a bit more genuine, and it turned to mush when he saw Lenore. He stepped closer, reaching a finger out to softly tickle her as he made silly noises.

“Cute kid,” he said, looking up at Jemma. And his smile changed again, becoming a bit more suave. “Cute mom. Hi.”

“Trip, you’re incorrigible. Get out of here.”

Jemma couldn’t help but laugh at both of them, and the man – Trip – shot her a wink as he headed for the door. 

“Don’t mind him,” Skye continued.

Jemma shrugged. “I don’t. It’s been a while since anyone hit on me.”

“Yeah, well. Sorry to tell you this, but he’ll hit on anyone. Did you need something?”

“Food,” Jemma said simply but emphatically.

“Food!” Skye twirled and stepped to the fridge, continuing to speak to Jemma as she began pulling out a wide variety of plastic containers and take-out boxes. “FYI, a couple of our people are heading to your place to get things for you. Like we said, you probably shouldn’t head back there anytime soon. So, they’re gathering clothes, baby stuff, any important or personal items they see. Is there anything in particular they might miss?”

“Um…” Jemma sat down, feeling overwhelmed both by the quantities of food in front of her and the rather upsetting details Skye was sharing. “I have some papers, health records and finances and things, in the desk drawer. And photo albums on the bookshelf. And if they don’t bring the stuffed monkey in the crib, they’ll face Lenore’s wrath, which, let me tell you, isn’t pretty.”

“OK, got it. Stuffed monkey. I’ll send them a message.” Skye pulled out the stool next to Jemma’s and sat down with a sigh. “I know this is crazy. I can’t even imagine what you must be…it’s crazy.”

Jemma nodded slowly, not trusting her voice. Finally, she just pretended Skye hadn’t said anything, hadn’t hinted at all about topics Jemma was not ready to discuss. Instead, she grabbed a piece of cold pizza with her free hand and took a large bite. She had barely finished chewing before asking, “What about my job?”

Skye cringed, and that was pretty much the only answer Jemma needed. 

“What about my friend? Can I call her, let her know I’m OK? She’ll be worried.”

“I don’t see why not!” Skye replied, seemingly relieved that she was able to give a positive answer. “As long as you don’t share any secret details. I’ll set you up a secure line right now.”

She stood then, almost perfectly in time with May walking into the room. The two women looked at each other, and Jemma watched amazed as an entire conversation happened via raised eyebrows and tightened mouths. 

Then Skye turned to Jemma again. “Do you want me to take Lenore while you eat? You’ve been holding her all this time; your arms must be exhausted.”

Jemma looked down at her sleeping baby and hesitated.

“I’ll take good care of her, I promise.”

Jemma carefully handed her over. “Don’t blame me if she wakes up and screams her bloody head off.”

Moments after Skye left, May stepped closer and gently tossed a file folder onto the table. Jemma chewed another bite of pizza slowly, warily, and then finally swallowed. 

“What’s that?”

“The whole story. And since you’re a scientist, I figured you’d need evidence.”

Jemma sighed and looked away. “I’m not getting out of this, am I?”

“Nope,” May said firmly but not entirely meanly. “And deep down, you don’t want to. Shutting down and avoiding things only solves a problem for so long.”

A long pause, and then Jemma nodded. May flipped open the folder, revealing a photo on top, and Jemma almost lost the small amount of food she had just managed to eat. 

“Oh my God,” she whispered, closing her eyes and turning her head.

“He was in the coma for nine days,” May informed her, sounding rather clinical and yet – Jemma didn’t know how exactly she knew this, but she was pretty sure May cared much more deeply than she let on. 

“Virtually no brain activity at first, and we were just waiting for his mom to get here before we made the decision to…Coulson insisted that he’d be the one to tell you. We didn’t have any hope. I agreed that he should, even if Fitz wasn’t officially gone at that point.” 

“And then what?” Jemma took May’s cue, suppressed her emotions and reached deep for the objective scientist she needed to be at the moment.

May shrugged. “He started fighting. Don’t really know how or why. All the doctors we brought in said the same thing – the human brain’s still very much a mystery. What’s more, our in-house science team had managed to take your notes on the serum and produce something similar. Less effective than the real thing, but missing the unpleasant side effects.”

“What do you mean, less effective?”

“It woke him up,” May explained, “But it didn’t fix the damage that had already been done. He went too long without oxygen. It was two more weeks before he managed to speak, and another month before he could walk. Hand tremors, aphasia. He still has both of those, you might have noticed. Not as severe as they were; he’s getting better every day. When he gets emotional or tired… But anyway. He asked about you all the time, but we didn’t want to upset him too much. When we finally told him that you thought…that Coulson told you…he wasn’t pleased, to say the least. But what could we do at that point? It had been so long, and you were safe from Hydra. He knew that was the most important thing.”

Jemma couldn’t speak, and she could barely breathe. She wiped quickly at her face, brushing aside the tears streaming down. 

“No,” she finally said, wrapping her arms around her stomach. “The most important thing was that we loved each other. The most important thing was that I was having a baby. The most important thing was that I wasn’t even given a choice. I could have – I could have helped him. He could have been there when she was born. How _dare_ you?”

Jemma didn’t wait for an answer. Instead, she spun away, nearly falling as she stood from the stool, but quickly catching herself and running out of the room. She needed Lenore, and she needed – she wanted – something she no longer had and might never have again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sadly, I will be hitting the road for holiday travel soon and will be unable to update as regularly as I have been. I will do my best. Happy Holidays!


	8. Chapter Seven

It was one of her favorite fantasies, most often brought out as she dozed during 3:00 AM feedings. Ambient light coming in from the hall, Lenore babbling to herself in between practically attacking her breast for more, Jemma with her eyes drooping closed, every so often pressing a toe to the floor to get the chair rocking again. And then Fitz would come in, feet padding softly on the carpet as he tried not to be too intrusive. He’d bend down, kiss the top of her head and slowly, carefully take Lenore from her arms. 

He’d pace the floor with her, murmuring nonsense as she drifted back to sleep. Then he’d lower her into the crib and come back for Jemma, pull her to her feet and into his embrace. And sometimes the fantasy would go further, the two of them heading back to bed where he’d pull her tight and they’d hold each other until they fell asleep again. Or he’d pull her tight and they’d hold each other as they moved together in a rhythm long since perfected, his hands burning her skin wherever he touched and her lips pressing against every part of him she could reach. 

But something wasn’t right with the fantasy this time. Fitz was there, like usual, but the sound of his feet on the ground was too solid, like shoes on concrete, and the angle and distance he paced made no sense for the shape of Lenore’s room. He was murmuring to her, his voice soft and sweet as expected, but the cadence was all wrong, hitching and catching at certain words. 

Jemma blinked her sleepy eyes open, finally recognizing and remembering where she was. And then she froze. Fitz _was_ there, and the sight of Lenore in his arms sent such a beautiful ache to her heart, she nearly gasped out loud. Instead she closed her eyes again, pretending to be asleep as she strained to hear what he was saying.

“You’re the most…am – amazing thing I’ve ever seen. Just as beautiful as your mother. You have…my eyes, though. And my app – appetite.” There was a long pause and then Fitz continued, his voice rougher with emotion that thickened his accent. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around. If – If Mommy agrees, I will never, ever, ever be away from you again.”

Fitz sighed, and it took everything in Jemma not to sit up, reveal she’d been listening, and beg him to say it again, to promise and swear that he’d be with them always. But at the same time, she was paralyzed with fear, with pain and distrust and anger.

“I should have listened to Coulson and got out when I – had the - when I could,” Fitz continued. “You are so mm-much more…wonderful than anything I saw or did with S.H.I.E.L.D. And…and you’re asleep now, so we’ll just…”

He trailed off, and Jemma peeked out of one eye, watching as he walked over to the crib Trip and another, very large man she hadn’t been introduced to set up earlier that evening. Fitz lowered Lenore into it, and stayed a few more seconds, leaning onto the rail as he watched her sleep. Jemma knew the feeling, had done the same thing many times. 

And then he turned around. Jemma quickly shut her eye again, forcing herself to breathe slow and deep. She could _feel_ him move closer, stare at her for a long, long moment. Footsteps again, coming closer to her, a sudden, soft press of his lips to her temple, his nose burying into her hair before he pulled back. 

Jemma waited several beats, her heart pounding as she warred within herself. Finally, she opened her eyes, drawing in a breath even though she had no idea what she was going to say. But he was gone, the door to the room slowly falling shut.

**

After her shower the next morning, Jemma walked back into her room, towel drying her hair, and then stopped abruptly when she realized she wasn’t alone. She recognized the man from the day before when he helped Trip with the crib, but she still didn’t know his name. He had a friendly smile though, and a rather infectious laugh, both of which were on full display as he leaned over the crib rail and made faces at a now-awake Lenore. She could hear her daughter giggling loudly, almost shrieking, in response.

“Hello,” Jemma said tentatively. 

“Oh. Hey,” the man turned to look at her, still chuckling. “Dr. Simmons, right?”

“Lot of new people arrived yesterday, did they?”

He just nodded self-deprecatingly. “Stupid question, fair enough.”

Jemma sighed, annoyed with herself and how she’d been treating many of the people at the base. Nothing in her life was this man’s fault. “Sorry,” she said, walking farther into the room. “I’m Jemma.”

“Mack.” 

He put his hand out and Jemma reached forward to shake it. As Jemma came into her view, Lenore gurgled a good morning, reaching one pudgy little arm out. Jemma bent over to pick her up and then faced Mack again, a curious expression on her face prompting him to explain his presence.

“So, Bobbi and Lance are back with your stuff. You’ll probably meet them later. I’ve stacked up the boxes over there,” he nodded to the corner and Jemma turned to look. “I figured I’d let you decide where things should go.”

“OK,” Jemma replied. “Thank you.” 

“No problem whatsoever,” Mack gave a quick wave to Lenore and then stepped towards the door before facing Jemma again. “You need any help with them, or anything else, just let me know. I’m usually in the garage. Or the lab with Fitz.”

Jemma felt a little blindsided by the mention of his name. She wondered if that had been this man’s intent all along. And yet, she couldn’t stop herself from asking, “You work with Fitz?”

“Well,” Mack casually leaned against the doorframe as he spoke, crossing his arms. “ _With_ is a bit of an overstatement, since I hardly know what he’s talking about half the time. But I think he likes having me as a sounding board. Better than mumbling to himself. The others have a hard time with him, to be perfectly honest. They keep wanting him to be like he was.”

“You don’t?” Jemma asked curiously. 

Mack shrugged. “I didn’t know him before. I’m sure he’s changed. You’d know better than anyone. But this guy, I don’t know. He’s a bit weird, but I like him.” 

Jemma didn’t say anything, choosing instead to walk closer to the boxes and pretend to look for something. She could feel Mack’s eyes on her.

“You’d probably like him too, if you gave him a chance,” he said. 

Jemma exhaled a sharp, pained breath, some kind of humorless laugh, and looked at Mack again. “He send you here to say that?”

“Nah,” Mack said, pushing off the door and standing straight. “I’ve got eyes though.”

“It’s not – ” Jemma’s voice broke and she paused before starting again. “It has nothing to do with him. _I’m_ different, don’t you understand? _I_ changed too.”

“Changed so much you don’t love him anymore?”

Jemma stared at him, unable to answer, uncertain why she even felt the need to explain herself to this stranger. 

“At any rate,” Mack said. “You should at least let him spend some time with her, don’t you think? Maybe you’re angry. Maybe you don’t want to get hurt. Maybe you don’t know how you feel and you want to avoid him, that’s your choice. But he is her father.”

He didn’t wait for a response, but Jemma wasn’t sure she had one anyway. She stared after him, still feeling a bit ambushed. And then, tired of being ignored and perhaps knowing she had been the subject of conversation, Lenore reached up and pushed at Jemma’s cheek.

**

For the next few days, Jemma didn’t do much of anything except spend time with Lenore and attempt to ignore everyone else. She had been more successful at that with some than others – namely, Skye. But at the moment, she was hesitantly knocking on Coulson’s office door. He had asked to see her, but she didn’t know why and frankly, she had avoided the man more than anyone else except Fitz since she had arrived. She knew, deep down, it wasn’t all his fault, but well…it was mostly his fault, and she wasn’t ready to forgive him yet.

“Come in,” he called out and she pushed the door open. “Ah, Dr. Simmons. Sit down, please.”

She did, never taking her eyes off him.

“How are you settling in?” 

“Fine.”

They stared at each other for a moment, and Jemma refused to budge. 

“OK, then,” Coulson continued, unfailingly good-natured. “I wanted to ask you if you’d be willing to do some analyses in the lab.”

Jemma’s heart lurched, and she tried not to feel too hopeful. She loved being able to bond so much with Lenore, but she was seriously starting to feel cooped up in the base. She understood it was for her safety, but she needed something to do with her mind and her hands. Something to do besides think about the mess her life had become. 

“An asset was recently kidnapped, and, I’m afraid, died in the attempt to rescue him. Hydra used a powerful device to…disable, if you will, the transport truck carrying him. We need to know how it works and how to prevent something like this happening again. You interested?”

Well, when he put it like that… “Yes.” 

“Great! We’ll get you set up with a bench. Anything you need, feel free to let me know, and I look forward to hearing what you discover. I’ve always thought you’d be a good addition to our – ”

Jemma held up a hand, and Coulson stopped talking. “I’m not joining your team,” she clarified. “Consider this…a freelance consultation. Just like before.”

For a second, she almost believed his façade was about to drop. His lips pursed ever so slightly, and his eyes narrowed, and if Jemma didn’t know better, his brief moment of frustration and disappointment seemed almost personal. Like he cared about something more than the efficient running of S.H.I.E.L.D. 

And then he smiled, all blithe, forgettable government agent again. 

“If that’s what you want.” He stood up, and she followed his cue. Walking around the desk, he held a hand out, using it to escort her towards the door. Neither of them said anything until he twisted the knob and pulled the door open.

“Like I said,” he continued. “if the two of you need anything, let me know.”

Jemma had been walking through the door and she stopped abruptly, turning to face him. “Two of us?”

“Ah, yes. The device really is a very ingenious little technical contraption.”

With that, he closed the door, nearly hitting Jemma in the face. She blew a piece of hair off her forehead, feeling very frustrated. 

“Of course,” she muttered.

**

It didn’t matter how much she wanted to avoid it, or even storm back into Coulson’s office and say she changed her mind. So, she might as well deal with it. She headed straight for the lab, intent on establishing some ground rules before he packed up for the night. But Fitz wasn’t there, and when she asked around, no one seemed to know where he was. Jemma thought for a moment, decided he must be in the garage with Mack, and then turned down the appropriate hallway. It was then she ran into Skye, who was supposed to be having what she called Aunt Skye Time with Lenore.

And she suspected that probably solved the mystery of where Fitz was. When Skye confirmed her suspicions, Jemma turned _again_ , choosing the hallway that would take her back to the suite they had moved her into. Skye had confided to her that it had been Coulson’s room before and it was the largest on the base. Jemma did not find that endearing, _whatsoever_. He could try to apologize in as many ways as he wanted, but he was still the bastard that had lied to her and watched her life fall apart and was now making her…making her…grr! 

She arrived at the room a few minutes later, but the crying coming from inside made her pause at the open door. She was well-versed in Lenore’s variations of expressing her distress, and an overfilled nappy wasn’t going to kill her. But, call her a bit of a sadist, she kind of wanted to see how Fitz dealt with it.

The man in question was pacing back and forth, his hair messed up as if he had been running his hand through it, and his voice getting increasingly high-pitched as he talked to his daughter. Her face was splotchy and wet, but she clung to his arm and shoulder. Fitz reached a hand up to rub comforting circles on her back. Honestly, the sight made something flutter in Jemma’s stomach and she felt a little weak in the knees. 

“Oh come on, darling,” he implored, “I thought we had a deal. We were never going to have any problems and then Mommy would see how – ”

Jemma cleared her throat and walked into the room. She didn’t particularly want to hear what she was supposed to see. Fitz turned to her, his eyes going wide with something resembling fear. 

“I don’t – she was…Help.”

Jemma reached forward, placing a hand on Lenore’s bottom to make sure she was correct. She was.

“She needs a new nappy. And to go to bed.”

Fitz’ response was priceless, and despite herself, Jemma nearly burst into laughter. He had never been able to handle gross smells or substances, and his expression indicated that hadn’t changed. He held Lenore out to her, and Jemma did laugh then, as she shook her head. She knew that Mack had been right, and she couldn’t think of a more serendipitous way to start involving Fitz. 

“Oh, no. You’re not an underpaid babysitter; you’re her father. Time to learn the routine.”

She stepped past him, heading towards the cart that had been commandeered as a changing table. He followed after her, still holding Lenore out from his body. The position wasn’t making her any happier, and she kicked her little legs as she cried. 

“You are aware that I only have one hand that works – good?”

“Practice makes perfect,” Jemma said, bending down to pull supplies from a drawer. “Do it enough, and it’ll become muscle memory.”

She straightened and faced him then. He looked a bit terrified, and she fought a smile. “Put her down, Fitz.”

He quickly complied, and Jemma switched places with him, placing her hands on his shoulders and directing him in front of her. Maybe she didn’t need to stand so closely behind him, didn’t need to rest her hand on his back as she leaned forward and pointed out the different snaps and adhesive tabs he needed to undo. Maybe she didn’t need to murmur encouraging instructions when he got frustrated trying to pull a fresh wipe from the tiny slot, or place her other hand over his when he squeezed it into a fist three times in a row. Maybe she didn’t need to ask him to carry a calmer but still fussing Lenore to the bed and lay her down in the middle, tell him to stretch out on the opposite side and hum soft lullabies as they caressed Lenore, their fingers every so often tangling together. 

But it was all part of the bedtime routine. He had to learn it eventually.

**

The Playground’s chronological simulation had switched to late-night mode by the time Fitz woke up, a crick in his neck from the unusual position he was lying in. In front of him, he could see Lenore was sound asleep, her little mouth open in a perfect O. And on the other side, Jemma slept too, her hair falling across her face. Fitz carefully reached over, swept it back and over her shoulder. He pulled away, dragging his fingers along her neck, and she moaned softly.

Fitz moved slowly, twisting to roll off the bed and then leaning over to pick Lenore up. She seemed somehow heavier, the dead weight of her limbs hanging down until he could get a better hold on her. He walked over to the crib, and slowly deposited her, desperate not to wake her up and set off the crying again. She shifted slightly, made a little noise, and Fitz held his breath. But then everything seemed fine, and he faced Jemma again. She was curled up, looking so small and cold and lonely. He walked back to the bed again, tugged off her shoes and then pulled up the blanket that was folded at the foot. He watched her for a beat, pretty sure he loved her more in that moment than he had ever done before. 

“Jemma,” he whispered, half hoping she’d answer and half hoping to confirm she was asleep.

Nothing but her steady breathing, so Fitz stood up. He walked to the door and was almost there when he heard his name. He turned back around, searching out Jemma’s eyes in the dim light. Neither of them spoke, and Fitz felt his heart start to pound. And then she moved, grabbing the edge of the blanket and pulling it down to open a space for him. Fitz licked his lips, uncertain. She dropped the blanket then, sliding her hand forward along the mattress and patting the spot next to her in a clear invitation. Fitz was halfway back across the room before he realized he started walking.

At the edge of the bed, he stopped and kicked off his shoes before crawling in. She pulled the blanket up again, covering them both and rolling closer to him, not quite touching. He just hoped she remembered in the morning that this was her idea.


	9. Chapter Eight

Fitz didn’t remember the last time he felt so content. It was probably the last time he woke up like this, with Jemma pressed along the entire length of his body, her head on his shoulder and her hand resting near his diaphragm. It was so comfortable, so right, he tried not to move too much. He knew that when she woke up, it would be over. 

Except it wasn’t. Because moments later, she stirred. And while she stiffened, as if she realized where she was and who she was sharing the bed with, she didn’t pull away. Instead, after an almost unbearably long pause, she twisted up to look at him, her hand sliding along his chest and one leg slipping further in between his. If they weren’t careful, that had the potential to become a truly awkward moment, but he couldn’t bring himself to worry too much about that. As they stared into each other’s eyes, he was far more focused on the overwhelming desire to kiss her. He had just started to tilt his head down when her hand pushed harder, keeping him back.

“I have to know, Fitz,” Jemma asked, her voice a hoarse whisper. “I can’t wonder anymore. Why?”

For a moment, he played stupid. “Why what?”

Jemma sighed. “Yes, Coulson came to me when you were…in – in a coma. That was on him. But you’ve been awake for over a year now. Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you come find me? Would you ever have, if Ward hadn’t escaped?”

Fitz dropped her gaze. He had been waiting for that question, knowing it’d be the first thing she asked once she was ready to talk to him. He didn’t know if he could tell her the truth, at least not the whole truth, but he owed it to her to try. But, at least at first, he’d start with the easiest explanation.

“Hydra – ”

“Yes, I know,” Jemma interrupted. “They were threatening me. But Fitz, that doesn’t make sense. I know you. You would have wanted me here, with you, where you could try to protect me.”

“It’d been,” Fitz tried again. “Long – a long time. You...moved on.”

“Do you think there’s any universe where I wouldn’t have wanted you to still be alive?” 

Fitz raised an eyebrow and tilted his head down to give her a look. It had been less than a week, after all, since she had slapped him, since she herself had said the words _moved on_ and stormed away from him. It only took her a second to catch his meaning and she blushed even while rolling her eyes.

“OK, yes. I was – I _am_ angry. But not so much where I wish you were _dead_. I mean…look how quickly you got me into bed.”

Fitz knew there was a joke in there, meant to ease the tension, but he sighed in resignation anyway. He should have known she wouldn’t accept any of these explanations, not fully. He lifted his eyes to the ceiling, blinking rapidly as perhaps the real or most pressing reason stuck to the tip of his tongue. Because that was it, wasn’t it? Because it wasn’t just a stereotypical masculine inability to express his feelings, but something else. And something that just seemed to get so much worse whenever she was around, looking at him like he was still the same man she had loved when he would never be that Fitz again. 

“We…our…we ta-talked.” That wasn’t right. He shook his head, clenched one hand into a fist. “On the phone,” he continued, still unable to look at her. “And Sk – skype and even in bed. All we did was talk and…text. If you – we couldn’t – ”

“Oh, Fitz.” He could hear the tears in her voice and he finally looked down. She reached a hand up, placed it on his cheek. 

“I’m diff-different,” he said. Perhaps it was all the explanation necessary.

Jemma shook her head. “You’re still you. I know you are.”

Fitz sat up quickly, dislodging her. “You don’t know. You – I used to see you. Here, for months. You’d…help. But even in – my im…im…”

“Imagination?” Jemma guessed, sitting up herself to lean against his back.

“Yeah. Even then, you didn’t love me anymore.”

“Well,” she began, her voice shaky. She took a breath. “Imaginary me’s pretty stupid.”

Fitz turned to her then, unable to control the expression on his face. He wondered how raw and pained he looked. “Jemma. I don’t want…burden.”

Jemma shook her head at him, and then, much to his surprise, she shifted on the bed, climbing to her knees and raising both hands to his cheeks. She held him still, stared into his eyes.

“We’ve talked about this. I’m a grown woman. I can make my own choices.”

She pulled him close then, silencing any protests with a kiss. Just as Fitz began to contemplate deepening it, she broke it off. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she held him tightly. 

“I’ve spent so long convincing myself that I was fine,” she said, a sob just below the surface. “But I’m not, Fitz. I’m petrified. I mean that. I’m so afraid to open myself up to us just to…to… I don’t know if I could bear losing you again.” 

Fitz rested his hand on the small of her back, comforting, steadying, but just for a moment before he reached up, grabbing her wrists and pulling them down. He put space between them, even though it was the last thing he wanted. And then he proposed something that he might hate himself for later.

“Go out with me.”

“What?” Jemma asked, her voice breathless. 

“Let’s take this slow. Dates. We never…really did, not like a normal couple. We’ll f-figure things out and you can decide if you still want…me.”

Jemma didn’t say anything for a long moment, and then a teary smile formed on her face. “Slow,” she agreed, already backing away from him, and yep, Fitz hated himself.

But he found himself nodding, his smile matching hers. And then she indicated the door with a quick nod. 

“Go on, get out of my room.”

Fitz jerked his head back, feeling very confused, but he started climbing out of the bed even as he looked to her for an explanation. Jemma laughed and gestured between the two of them. “This is not very conducive for taking it slow. I’m not the kind of girl that puts out even before a first date, you know.”

Fitz nearly stumbled as he was putting on his shoes. Once he caught his balance, he gave her a very eloquent look. “Oh, really. You’re not. OK.”

Jemma smirked at him, waiting until he left the room and the door closed behind him before she collapsed back onto the bed. They weren’t fixed. She was still mad; she was still scared. And he obviously had his own insecurities. They’d need to talk a lot more, and they’d need to learn how they’ve changed, to see if they still fit. But it was a start. And something inside her that had been _wrong_ for days, since the plane ramp had lowered and she’d seen him standing there, maybe if she was completely honest since Coulson had first appeared at her door so many months ago, _finally_ slotted back into place. 

She closed her eyes, sighing. Remembering back to how it felt to wake up in his arms again. How it felt to press her lips to his. She stretched, feeling rather luxurious as she sprawled out beneath the blanket and thought about – 

A burst of baby talk emerged from the crib. Lenore was up.

**

“Whatever damaged the truck produced a very powerful field of energy.”

“Yeah,” Fitz agreed distractedly, not looking up from his computer screen. “And Jemma, come look at this. There’s something fa-familiar about this. I’ll have to go back through…”

He trailed off, and Jemma backed away from her work. She walked over, placing a hand on his elbow as she looked over his shoulder. “Through old files?”

“Yeah.”

“You know what it looks like to me? Have you ever read anything by Frank – ”

“Frank Hall. He taught at the Academy. Yes, that’s it. Gr – grav – ” He looked up at her, holding one hand out leadingly.

“Gravitonium. Someone’s found Gravitonium, Fitz.”

He tapped the screen, pointing at the detail he had noticed earlier. “These…wiggly bits here.”

Jemma nodded, then headed back to the table she had been working at. “I think we’re onto something.”

“That would explain why the truck ended up in a tree. Even a pro…totype could do that.” 

“Exactly.” Jemma agreed, then bent down to look in her microscope again. Almost too casually, she added, “Have you noticed, Fitz, how you’ve rarely had trouble finding the right words when talking to me the last few days? Almost like there was a psychological component to it.”

When Fitz didn’t answer right away, Jemma pulled back again, looking to him with a smug expression. He watched her for a moment, a bit of a smile hinting at the corners of his mouth even as he tried to appear nonchalant.

“You think you’re clever, don’t you?” he finally asked.

“Oh, I know I am,” Jemma replied cheerfully.

**

Jemma giggled to herself as she listened to Bobbi and Skye play with Lenore on the other side of the makeshift screen she was using for privacy. She balanced on one foot and then the other as she stepped into her dress and pulled it up, half cringing and half hoping. She probably could have found something else to wear for her second first date with Fitz, but she wanted to go with the same outfit she had worn (for all of a few minutes) for her first first date. Maybe it was silly, but it felt special somehow, like a symbol of their new beginning.

Of course, she had bought that dress before she had given birth, and she had to do some contorting to get the zipper up even as high as she did. Giving up, she stepped out from behind the screen to get help.

“Can one of you – ?” she pointed to her back as she turned, twisting her head to look over her shoulder at the others.

Skye looked up from where she was sitting, Lenore on her tummy on the blanket next to her. “Yowza! Hot mama!”

Jemma hummed uncertainly as Bobbi finished pulling up the zipper, and then she turned around again. She looked down at herself and proceeded to try to pull the top of the dress up a bit more. Good Lord, she was practically spilling out of it.

“This used to fit better,” she worried.

“Yeah, I don’t think Fitz will complain about the décolletage,” Bobbi disagreed, reaching out to pull the dress back down. Jemma tried to fix it again, and Bobbi slapped her hand away. 

Jemma sighed and walked over to the small mirror propped up on top of the dresser. She picked up the lipstick sitting next to it and leaned forward to touch up her make-up.

“Are you sure you’re fine with Lenore? She shouldn’t get hungry, but you might need to cha – ”

“Jemma! Don’t worry! Aunt Skye has got this. We’ve all got this, actually. You think Coulson approves a night off of the base for just anyone?”

“Well,” Jemma put the cap back on the lipstick and faced her friend, choosing to ignore Skye’s latest attempts to improve her opinion of the director. “I appreciate it.” And then she laughed as she remembered something she had completely forgotten about. 

Skye tilted her head. “What?”

“Nothing, it’s just…I used to be jealous of you, when I first met Fitz.”

“ _What?_ ”

“He used to talk about you a lot. I didn’t know if you two ever, you know…”

“Ew. _Ew._ He’s like my brother!”

Jemma glanced at Bobbi, who was shaking with barely controlled laughter at the exchange, and then shrugged. “I didn’t know!”

Skye shuddered with exaggeration. “Kind of hard to believe you thought he could be interested in anyone other than you. You clearly didn’t see the show from my seat, let’s put it that way.”

Jemma raised an eyebrow questioningly.

“You have no idea, Simmons. It was disgusting – and disgustingly cute – to watch.”

“Still is,” Bobbi chimed in. “You should have seen how red he was turning earlier when Lance and Mack were giving him tips for tonight. Just pray he doesn’t actually listen to them. Well, not all of them,” she added with a wink.

“You’re all awful,” Jemma pointed out, and the others just laughed.

Their gossiping ended just in time, though, as Fitz knocked on the frame of the open door. All three women turned to him, and even Lenore twisted on the blanket and gurgled happily. Maybe it made no sense, but Jemma suddenly felt incredibly nervous. But then Fitz smiled at her, dropping his eyes down to take in the dress, maybe pausing a bit longer than someone who had vowed to take things slow should have when his gaze reached her chest. And Jemma shook her head – some things never changed. 

“Ready?” he asked, once his eyes made it back up to hers.

“Um, yeah.” Jemma stepped over to the blanket and crouched down to pick up Lenore. She gave her two quick kisses on the cheek. “Be good, baby.”

She glanced up at Fitz. “Want to say goodnight?”

“Mm-hmm,” he replied, walking into the room and crossing over to them. He held one hand down to help Jemma to her feet and then took Lenore. She immediately reached over, sticking her fingers into his mouth which had, for some reason, become her new favorite thing to do. Fitz laughed, pulling back enough to drop kisses on her hands instead. “Goodnight, honey.”

Skye took Lenore then, and behind Fitz’ back, Bobbi mouthed something Jemma couldn’t quite make out. Considering she also pointed at Jemma’s chest and then pushed her own breasts up, Jemma was pretty sure she didn’t want to know what exactly she said.

And then Fitz caught her eye, grinned and reached over, taking her hand as he started walking towards the door. Jemma didn’t give the other women another thought.


	10. Chapter Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back in NSFW/explicit territory (Merry Christmas ;P), but no more updates for a few days (bah humbug!)

“So, all you’d need to do to contain it is cut the power.”

“And if that doesn’t work, a catalyst (“Catalyst,” Fitz said at the same time.) to create a chemical reaction in the core.”

“Gravitonium?” Coulson asked, still somewhat disbelieving. “It’s real?”

Jemma nodded, seeing Fitz do the same out of the corner of her eye.

Coulson spread out his hands. “OK, then. Good work Fitz, Simmons.” He said their names so close together, it almost sounded like one word. Jemma shivered at how _right_ it seemed.

Then, taking the cue, they stood up and headed towards the office door. Before they left though, Coulson’s voice stopped them again.

“Dr. Simmons, I don’t suppose you’d reconsider…” 

She turned to face him, eyes immediately zeroing in on the ID badge with an unmistakable S.H.I.E.L.D. logo on it that he was holding up. She sighed, but she couldn’t help feeling a little bit tempted. 

“I suppose it _would_ be my best chance for meeting Thor.” She bit the inside of her lip to keep a straight face when she sensed Fitz whip his head to stare at her. She could only imagine his expression, but she wouldn’t dare risk looking at it.

Besides, she was engaged in a staring contest with Coulson. She wondered who would blink first. Oh, who was she kidding? She wasn’t going anywhere.

“Would I have to do another orientation? I’m not getting in that chair again.”

“Nope.” A small smile started to peek at the edge of Coulson’s lips. He stood and walked closer.

Jemma crossed her arms. “I have a couple conditions. One: an apology.” 

“Jemma Simmons,” Coulson said, his voice the sincerest she had ever heard it. He slipped the new lanyard over her neck. “I cannot begin to tell you how sorry I am for how I handled the situation with Fitz. I thought it was for the best, but I realize now that was wrong. Please forgive me.”

She was quiet for a few moments, and then nodded. “Two: I need to go back to D.C. and close out some business there – my lab, my house.” 

“You’ll need to take someone with you for security. Bobbi or Trip.”

“Both,” Fitz interjected quietly from behind her. Coulson nodded, repeating “Both.”

“Deal,” Jemma agreed. She would’ve begged Bobbi to go with her anyway. She wasn’t stupid. 

“Anything else?”

Jemma paused, thinking. Wondering what she could get out of him. New equipment, perhaps? Then she felt Fitz’ hand slide down her arm in a silent _Don’t push it_. “That’s it,” she said.

Coulson held his hand out with a smile, and Jemma shook it. “Welcome to S.H.I.E.L.D., Agent Simmons.”

When she turned around, Fitz was grinning widely at her. But his excitement was nothing to Skye’s, who when she learned about it later that evening, ran cheering up to Jemma and scooped her into a bear hug.

**

“You promised, Jemma. Both of them, you agreed.”

“Well, Fitz, I think the ‘unless S.H.I.E.L.D. business takes precedence’ was implied. It’s not my fault Bobbi had to go to Japan. I’m not rescheduling my appointment with this realtor; it took forever to arrange. And I want to see Marci.”

She barely looked up at him as she packed her purse, not entirely sure why he was so upset. She’d still have Trip with her, after all. And anyway – “I really don’t think there’s anything to worry about, Fitz.”

She did look up then, and she relented a bit when she saw Fitz’ expression. She walked over to him, placing one hand on his cheek and one hand on Lenore’s back. After shifting the baby a bit to free a hand, Fitz reached out and pulled Jemma closer.

“Just be careful, OK? Ward’s still – ”

Jemma silenced him with a kiss. “There’s _nothing_ to worry about,” she repeated once she pulled away. “Besides, I’m in good hands with Trip.”

Fitz’ expression changed, still worried but somehow differently. Jemma narrowed her eyes in suspicion. 

“Fitz,” she prompted him.

“Yeah, well,” Fitz said, sounding a bit petulant. “Make sure he keeps his ha-hands to himself.”

Jemma burst into laughter. Lenore started giggling in response, and Jemma just laughed harder.

“It’s not f…funny. He likes you.” 

Jemma kissed him again. “You’re adorable.”

**

“He’s great.”

Jemma nodded in agreement, her head probably digging into Fitz’ shoulder where it rested. “Good casting.”

It was entirely too late at night – or early in the morning – and Jemma knew she’d pay for it when Lenore woke up at her usual time. But she was having a great date night “in,” and she didn’t want it to end. She wasn’t entirely sure what Fitz had bribed or blackmailed Lance and Mack with, but they skipped the video game battles for one night, and she and Fitz had had the common room to themselves for the last several hours. 

“Probably my favorite – my fav’rite – ”

“Doctor? I don’t know yet. Definitely tied with Ten for the new series anyway. I do love an attractive older man with a Scottish accent.”

She felt Fitz turn to look at her, and she hid her smile.

“Just a reminder, I’m 23 days older than you.” 

She snickered, both at the statement and how he exaggerated his accent to almost comical proportions. 

“Ohhh, _Fitz_ ,” she replied, affecting a breathy, sensuous tone. 

But it stopped being funny, and got serious pretty quick, when Fitz turned to her, using one hand to tilt her face up to him. The kiss was strong and soft, demanding and sweet, all at the same time, and Jemma felt a little light-headed. And then the whole world spun as he moved them quickly, pressing her backwards and stretching them both along the couch. Jemma gasped when he pulled away only to begin dropping kisses down her neck. She tugged on his collar, holding him close, before sliding her hands to his shoulders. She could feel his muscles flex and move, and she pressed him a little tighter to her when his mouth dropped even lower, his tongue dipping into the hollow of her suprasternal notch. 

And then his hands went to the buttons of her pajama top, and she froze with self-consciousness.

“Fitz,” she whispered, her voice strained. “Wait.”

He shot to the other end of the couch, putting far too much space between them. Jemma sighed, frustrated at herself. She sat up.

“I’m sorry. I’m not – I just – ”

Fitz shook his head quickly, but he couldn’t make eye contact with her. “My fault. Not taking…slow. Things slow.” He pulled a pillow out from behind him, placing it on his lap, and Jemma’s eyes were drawn to what he was trying to hide. “We should, ah, fi-finish the…episode.”

Jemma nearly growled. She was far too turned on at the moment, and she didn’t want to just end the night like this. But she wasn’t ready for him to…she wasn’t ready for that. There were always alternatives, though. She moved quickly, grabbing the remote and turning off the TV, then sliding to her knees on the ground in front of Fitz. He stared at her in surprise, as she pulled the pillow away and began unbuttoning his trousers. 

“Jemma, what…you don’t – you don’t need – ”

“I want to.”

**

Fitz meant to keep protesting, he really did, but it was hard enough to get the words out when she wasn’t wrapping her mouth around him. This wasn’t something they had done very often – if anyone was going to go down on the other one, he wanted it be him, and Jemma never had any complaints about that, and then they were both usually far too ready for him to be inside her. He realized now that that was really quite stupid of them. When someone so talented did something that felt so good, they should be doing it all the time. All the time.

He watched her, still not quite believing they were together again. And then his eyes nearly rolled back into his head as she reached a hand up to cup and massage him, one finger teasing further back. He planted his feet firmer on the floor, trying not to – he reached one hand out, letting it hover just slightly above the back of her head, but he – he couldn’t – 

And then Jemma, not bothering to pull back or even look at him, reached one hand up quickly, grabbed his wrist and forced it down, closing the millimeters between them until his fingers were tangled into her hair. She hummed approvingly, and moved her arms, wrapping them around him in something like a hug rather than resting them on his thighs. Fitz’ hips twitched up, and he closed his eyes as he moaned. 

Jemma pulled off him with a wet-sounding _pop_ , and Fitz opened his eyes again, struggling to focus on her. She seemed almost exasperated, but before he could begin to ask, she leaned closer, holding eye contact steadily.

“Fuck my mouth, Fitz,” she enunciated deliberately. 

His own mouth dropped open, and he couldn’t even begin to move for a moment. He wondered if she knew what it did to him when she swore, how he lost all control when dirty words came out of her pretty mouth. If she had figured out how to use that to her advantage. Because there was no way he could hold back now. He hissed as she lowered onto him again. Then he reached his other hand up as well, holding her still as he began to rock with small, irregular thrusts. 

She didn’t stop him, and pretty soon he didn’t think he could stop himself. He moved faster, smoother, bumping against the back of her throat as she took him in. He could barely hear her small moans and the wet, sucking noises they made together over the roaring rush of his breathing and his pulse. It was too much, especially after so long.

“Jem – ” he choked out in warning. Her response was merely to curl her tongue against him, close her lips around him tighter, and _oh fu_ – 

If he had any sort of wits about him, he’d probably be embarrassed about the noises he made when he came, or his complete lack of stamina, or the wheezing sort of sound coming out of him now as he attempted to catch his breath. But he couldn’t bring himself to care. When he finally did look at Jemma again, she was sitting back on her heels, appearing far too smug as she wiped the edge of her mouth with one finger. She raised her eyebrows at Fitz and licked the finger clean.

“God,” Fitz groaned, dropping his head back onto the couch. 

And then she was surprising him again, climbing up and straddling him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed down against his lap, dampness seeping through her (at the moment, far too abrasive against his sensitive skin) pajama shorts. The evidence of her arousal was tempting though. As spent as he was, he was pretty sure…give him a few minutes…

“Are you sure you don’t…” he managed to ask, his voice shaky.

“I’m sure.” Jemma nodded, the twist of her hips sending him very mixed messages. “But kiss me again.”

“Gladly.”

He didn’t have nearly enough concentration to put any sort of finesse or coordination into the kiss, and so it was messy but incredibly hot. She stroked his tongue with her own, traces of his release still on it. And then they pulled apart, their lips only millimeters away as they fought to breathe, hot puffs of air filling the small space between them. He was about to lean in again, snag her lips in another kiss when she froze much like she had earlier. 

Fitz had no idea what he kept doing to get that reaction, and honestly, it was going to make him start crying pretty soon, but then Jemma spoke, her voice an urgent, fearful whisper.

“Fitz! The security cameras!”

It took him a moment to realize what she was saying, and then he started shaking in silent laughter. “I’ll delete the footage,” he finally replied. After a moment, he grinned and added, “I might make a copy first.”

She smacked him in the side, hard. “Don’t you dare.”

He just laughed out loud.


	11. Chapter Ten

“Dada? Can you say dada?”

Jemma rolled her eyes as she listened to Fitz’ baby talk. He was on his back on the floor, holding Lenore above him, every once in a while swooping her down for kisses. She was loving that, but she was decidedly not going verbal today.

“You’ll have to wait a few more months for that, Fitz,” she pointed out as she walked over and sat next to them. “At least if you want her to _understand_ what she’s saying too.”

“Um, excuse you,” Fitz replied, tilting his head back to grin at her. “This is the daughter of two geniuses we’re talking about. I think we can expect her dev…”

“Development.”

“Yes, thank you. To be ahead of schedule. Soon, she’ll be speaking better than…” He focused on Lenore again and enunciated slowly “ _Dada._ ”

“Dada speaks just fine, but if she says his name before Mama’s, I will hold you personally responsible.”

Fitz glanced at her again, somewhat nervously, then looked at Lenore. “Can you say Mama? Maaamaaa.”

Lenore blew out a little spit bubble and then tried to reach for the stuffed toy Fitz was using as a pillow. Jemma laughed. 

“Yep, the next fellow of the Royal Society right there. I don’t know who likes that monkey more, you or her.”

Fitz sat up, placed Lenore on the blanket and handed her the toy. As she proceeded to gnaw on its ear, he shook his head at Jemma in mock disappointment. 

“That is an _ape_ , Jemma. There’s a difference.”

“It’s purple, Fitz. Pretty certain that falls nowhere on the taxonomic hierarchy.”

“Whatever. I had a great idea earlier, for the lab.”

“We’re not getting a monkey.”

“Someday, I’ll wear you down. But no. Watching cartoons with Mack and – and Hunter, I…now, hear me out. DWARFs.” He held out a hand, palm up, as if he had just stated the greatest idea ever conceived.

“Wait, hold on. I’m trying to picture the three of you and Lenore watching cartoons.”

“Who said Lenore was there?” Fitz asked, deadpan. 

Jemma barked a laugh. “Dwarfs?” she asked once she had calmed down. “I like it. I could use seven men around obeying my every whim.”

“Jemma, no.” He replied immediately, and then paused, narrowing his eyes and giving her a look that quite effectively expressed his lack of appreciation for her joke. 

Jemma forced herself to be serious. “Sorry. Dwarfs?”

He shook his hand dismissively. “We’ll figure out what it stands for later. Seven of them. Little…things. Mechanical things. “

Jemma hesitated, feeling a little helpless as usual when Fitz was looking for a word and she couldn’t provide it. It was happening less and less frequently, partly because he was getting so much better and partly because they were becoming truly in sync again. But she had no idea what he was trying to say. He gestured, trying to shape something out of air with his hands, and then he grimaced in frustration.

“It’s OK, Fitz.” 

He shook his head, standing up. “I have drawings in the lab,” he explained, as he walked to the door. And then, just as he disappeared from sight, he shouted back at her triumphantly, “Robots!” 

Jemma turned to look at Lenore, who was staring up at her with gigantic blue eyes. 

“Robots,” Jemma repeated, nodding sagely.

**

Jemma paced back and forth in the lab. Theoretically, she could be working on any number of projects, but all she could think about was the mission currently underway.

Of all times to decide to bring Fitz back into the field, Coulson chose to do so when they were racing against Hydra to find a boy who could control the weather. She knew there was a reason she didn’t like Coulson. The man was the _worst_ leader. She hoped he took her dire threats of painful consequences seriously, but the tiny smirk on his face when she had been outlining the details of what she’d do to him if anything happened to Fitz suggested otherwise. 

“ _Don’t worry, Jemma_ ,” Fitz had said. “ _I can do this_.” As if the last time he was in the field, he hadn’t nearly died.

The other scientists had long since escaped the lab. Probably wise of them. She didn’t even have Skye or Bobbi to talk to, as both of them were on the mission. Hell, she wouldn’t have even minded May or Trip, but they were both otherwise occupied too. All of the people she had come to depend on were gone, making these hours of fretting so much worse. So, she was admittedly curious when the door swung open. 

Rather surprisingly, it was Mack. Despite the fact that they were probably the two people closest to Fitz, she hadn’t really gotten to know him as much as she would have liked. She suspected that was about to change, considering the mug of tea he held out to her. She stared at it for a while before reaching out, and then looked up at him. He gave her a supportive sort of smile, and she was almost relieved to see he shared the expression of worry Jemma knew was on her own face. 

“It used to be so much easier,” she said with a trembling voice, “when I didn’t _know_ he was doing dangerous things.”

**

“Ah, and there’s me as big as a house. Castle, really.” Jemma commented, flipping the page of the photo album.

Fitz buried his nose in her neck, pausing a moment to inhale deeply. “You look beautiful,” he murmured. “Glowing.”

“You see glowing; I see desperately needing to pee.”

“I wish I’d been there,” Fitz said quietly. Jemma’s only response was to lift one hand up behind her and thread her fingers through the curls at the back of Fitz’ neck. He took a breath and added, with a tone clearly meant to lighten the mood, “I would’ve held your hair back while you puked.”

“You wouldn’t have lasted two minutes in the delivery room,” Jemma pointed out.

“Yes, I would have. For you, I would have.”

Jemma closed the album, setting it aside on the mattress. She twisted around to look up at him. “I wish you’d been there too.”

Fitz’ smile was sad, yet oddly hopeful, as he pressed one hand to Jemma’s stomach. Through her shirt, she could feel the warmth of his palm, each knuckle of his talented fingers. “You ever think about doing it again?”

The question surprised her. She had never really considered the idea before, mostly because she couldn’t imagine ever finding someone she loved as much as Fitz, someone she’d want to make more babies with. But now, everything had changed, and they had a second chance. Fitz had taken to parenting exceptionally well and exceptionally fast, even the not so fun parts. And she, of course, loved being a mother, despite the challenges, the stress, the lack of sleep and personal time. She couldn’t wait to buy Lenore her first chemistry set or see what crazy insects she collected or – if she defied all expectations – applaud her dancing or singing or art, cheer at her sports games, read her novels, scold her for helping Skye hack government web sites, whatever. She couldn’t wait for every moment of every day of Lenore’s life. She knew Fitz had felt lonely as an only child, despite how hard his mom tried, and she cherished her brothers. Why wouldn’t they want to give Lenore siblings? 

“Maybe,” she finally replied. Fitz grinned, excitement growing on his face, and Jemma knew she had to stop him before he spiraled out. “But _not_ anytime soon.”

“No,” Fitz shook his head quickly. “No, I know. We have enough to deal with right now.”

Try as he might, though, he couldn’t hide the traces of disappointment on his face. Jemma was pretty sure she knew a surefire way to cheer him up, though. She glanced at the clock. They had plenty of time before they needed to be in the lab for the day, and with any luck, Lenore would sleep for a while longer still. So, she moved one hand up to cover Fitz’ where it still rested just below her navel and then pushed down, guiding him lower. 

“We could get some practice in, though,” she hinted. 

Looking back up at Fitz, she couldn’t help but smile as he flushed. He swallowed, then made eye contact with her. 

“I have brain damage,” he finally said, “so you, um, might need to spell this out for me.”

Jemma chuckled. “I’m saying,” she spoke slowly, pitching her voice low, reaching her other hand up to cup his face, “that I think we’ve waited long enough. More than. I’m ready.”

Fitz’ eyes closed, and he exhaled, but he didn’t make any further move. Jemma started to feel a little nervous. She wasn’t the only one, after all, who had felt insecure and had wanted to go slow. 

“Are – are you?”

He opened his eyes then, staring at her with almost unbearable intensity. “Yes. Of course.”

“Oh, thank God,” Jemma breathed out, turning around in his arms so she could kiss him fully. He slid down on the mattress, repositioning his legs so they alternated with her own. The position worked quite nicely for Jemma, giving her the muscle of his thigh to grind against and allowing her to feel him against her hip as he started to harden. Fitz wrapped his arms around her, one hand going up to bury itself in her hair, and the other reaching down, cupping her bottom. 

She broke the kiss with a gasp, arching her back as she pulled herself higher up along his body, seeking out the bone of his pelvis. She wanted, she needed more pressure, more friction. Sensing her frustration and knowing just how to respond, Fitz brought his hand around, squeezing it between their bodies, his thumb quickly finding just the right spot as he rubbed tight, fast circles through the fabric of her shorts. His other hand roamed to the front of her body, ultimately finding her breast, thumb mimicking the movement of its pair by stroking and circling her nipple. He lifted up from the pillow to capture her mouth in another searing kiss.

It wasn’t enough, not nearly enough. Jemma reached for the waistband of her shorts, beginning to slip them down just as an unexpected sob cut through her haze of lust. 

“Wha – ?”

The expression of total confusion on Fitz’ face was really quite adorable. But Jemma just collapsed, burying her face into the dark crease of the pillow near his neck with a whimper. “Please, baby, no,” she whined. “Don’t do this to Mommy.”

The pleas were pointless, though, and Jemma finally rolled off Fitz, who remained motionless on the mattress, his hands covering his face. She walked over to the crib, where Lenore was making her displeasure at waking up hungry known very, very loudly. 

“And you wanted another one,” she reminded Fitz.

**

Jemma walked into the lab, her greetings dying on her lips when she heard Fitz talking to Lenore. She slowed down, stepping softly so as not to interrupt him. He was working on something, probably one of the DWARFs, and Lenore was watching the process, bouncing in her jumper chair on the floor next to him.

“Now this will have a two – two-way speaker, so it picks up sound and can also play…things… Songs. To help you sleep.”

Lenore squealed, removing her slobbery hand from her mouth and reaching out towards him.

“Biosensors?” he replied. “That’s actually a really good idea, sweetheart.”

Lenore giggled.

“Yes, I know. I know. Because then we can…keep track of you all sorts of different ways. Mommy will like that. I think we probably need to increase the, ah, the range, though.” Fitz said. “Make sure it picks up even the tiniest cry or she’ll never agree.”

Jemma narrowed her eyes suspiciously. This did not sound like a DWARF.

“Now, Lenore. What color do you want it to be?”

She bounced up and down, pushing off the floor with her legs and slapping her palms down on the handle of the chair, accompanying it all with more gibberish.

“Green? Really? OK. No gender…stereotypes for you. That’s good.” He bent over then, reaching into a drawer and pulling out some wires. As he started working again, he glanced at Lenore once more. “Now, honey. It’s not because I don’t want you in the room, OK? You can come back over whenever you need to. But I think you’ll sleep just fine next door. And Daddy will still tuck you in every night.”

Fitz turned in his seat then and made eye contact with Jemma. He winked, and Jemma swallowed, feeling a bit warm. “And then he’ll put Mommy to bed too.”

She stepped closer, reaching out to pick up what apparently will become the most high-tech baby monitor ever built. “I don’t remember agreeing to move Lenore next door.”

Fitz opened and closed his mouth, flirtatious bravado disappearing, and Jemma tried to keep a straight face.

“I’ll be lonely in that room all by myself,” she continued. “And this base really isn’t big enough for us to spread Lenore’s stuff out to three different rooms.”

Fitz began to smile, and Jemma sighed, affecting a long-suffering tone as she concluded, “I guess you’ll just have to officially move in.”


	12. Chapter Eleven

Jemma took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly. She ran a hand down her front, smoothing out the fabric of the slip. Waiting (she suspected rather impatiently) on the other side of the screen was Fitz. Fitz! Who’d seen her naked so many times she lost count. They had a child together. They loved each other, Jemma was sure of it, even though they actually hadn’t explicitly said it since they had found their way back to each other. There was absolutely no reason to be nervous. She nodded to herself, and then started to step out from behind the screen.

She stopped suddenly, turned back around and grabbed the matching wrap. She threw it around herself and tied the belt tight. It was thin and short, but it was better than the lingerie alone, at least.

Would it be strange to ask him to turn off the lights?

“Jemma?” Fitz called out. She closed her eyes and shook her head at herself.

She walked around the screen and into the room. Fitz was sitting on the bed, wearing only his boxers, and when he saw her, his eyes widened. He straightened, pushing himself up. 

“Wow,” he breathed out. 

Jemma’s hand hovered over the knot of the belt. She couldn’t quite bring herself to untie it, no matter how stupid she knew it was.

“Sorry,” she said, lifting her hand and tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I – ”

Fitz’ eyes narrowed. “Jemma?” When she didn’t respond, he added, “Jemma, if you’re not ready after all…we can wait. Really.”

Jemma groaned, walking over and dropping onto the foot of the bed as she covered her face with her hands. She felt the mattress shift as Fitz moved, crawling closer to her. His hand came up to her shoulder, squeezing comfortingly.

“I’m serious,” he said. “I’ll wait for you forever.”

Jemma removed her hands, looking over at Fitz with a wide smile and tears in her eyes at his sweetness. She shook her head. “It’s not that. I’m so ready, Fitz. I’m sure of us now, and I have been for a while. It’s just…”

“Jemma, what?”

Jemma focused on her lap, and she indicated her body with a quick wave of her hand. “You haven’t – seen me since Lenore.”

There was no response for an unnervingly long beat, and then Fitz’ hand came into her line of sight. He reached for the knot, untied it slowly. Jemma inhaled, and then risked another glance in his direction.

The bastard was trying not to laugh.

“Fitz!”

“Jemma, come here,” he directed, still smirking. 

He tugged on the two ends of the belt, until she stood and stepped into the V of his legs. The wrap fell open, and Jemma took a breath, shrugged her shoulders, and let it fall to the floor. Fitz ran a hand down the front of the slip, sliding smoothly along the satin until he reached the lace hem.

“Now this,” he commanded.

Jemma looked at him. His eyes were dark with desire, all traces of humor gone, and she started to feel more confident. She reached down to grab the bottom of the short skirt, and pulled it up, over her head in one smooth motion. 

She was completely naked then. She licked her lips, working up the courage to check Fitz’ reaction. And then, before she could, he grabbed her hand and pulled her onto the bed. Jemma yelped as he rolled them over until she was on her back and he was on his side, leaning over her, one hand on her hip and the other resting just above her head.

When they finally made eye contact, Fitz was looking back at her with awe and so much, just so much love on his face. 

“You’re gorgeous,” he murmured. “Even more so than I remember.”

“Really?” 

Fitz nodded, his gaze swooping down as he looked her over. Jemma could see the hints of a smile creeping onto his face. 

“For one thing, your boobs are _huge_.”

Jemma’s head fell back onto the pillow as she rolled her eyes. “Ugh, _Fitz_.”

He chuckled, but then turned serious very quickly. The next thing Jemma knew, a warm, wet mouth dropped down onto one of those “boobs.” He sucked softly, and Jemma gasped, a shock of pleasure shooting straight through her. Fitz paused for a moment to circle the nipple with his tongue and then broke away, placing a kiss here and there on her stomach, fingers running along faded stretch marks, as he worked his way lower and lower. 

And then he bypassed where she wanted him to go, moving instead to nibble at her inner thighs. She groaned, squeezed her legs together searching for some kind of relief, and clawed at his shoulders. He didn’t receive – or chose to ignore – her message, and slid even farther down, sucking softly at the skin just above her knee. Unacceptable. 

“Fitz!” The shout was maybe a little too loud, a little more demanding than she meant it to be. But he looked up at her, eyes twinkling and a grin on his face.

“There you are.”

Jemma narrowed her eyes in confusion.

“I was wondering who that timid little thing was. Sorry, did you want something?”

“You’re not cute,” Jemma informed him.

Fitz waggled his eyebrows, but before she could respond, he dropped back down. He finally, finally put his mouth on her, his lips seeking out and wrapping around the little nub of her clit, and all of her remaining nervousness turned into immediate, aching pleasure. She tilted her head back, eyes closing as she let out a long, low moan. She hooked one leg around the back of his shoulders, pulling him closer. A part of her had forgotten how enthusiastically good he was at this, or possibly she had thought she had embellished it in her memory. Jemma shuddered, digging her fingers into his scalp. She could feel a tightness coiling up in her already, wanting release. She rocked her hips, bucking up into him, and in response, he flattened his tongue along her folds, pushing in just slightly. Then he pressed a kiss to her, and he hummed, and it seemed like the whole world shattered into pieces.

As the bliss of her unexpectedly sudden orgasm subsided, she found herself kissing Fitz again. She reached up to his face, tried to deepen the kiss, but he pulled away, breathing heavily.

“Do we need – ?”

“Yes,” she said. And maybe a part of her was as disappointed by that answer as he clearly was, but she wasn’t taking any risks. She arched her back, reaching up to search the shelf behind the bed until she found the condom she had put there earlier. 

Lifting it to her mouth, she bit a corner and tore the package open. And then she reached down and rolled the condom on Fitz, fighting a grin as he pressed a fist into the mattress and groaned at the contact. Throwing the empty wrapper off the side of the bed, she placed her hands on his shoulders and pulled him down on top of her again. 

“Slow, OK? At first. It’s been a while.”

Fitz nodded, exhaling shakily, and then dropped his gaze down, breaking eye contact. Instead, he watched as he pushed in gently, bit by bit. Jemma lifted herself up to pull him into a kiss and wrapped her legs around his hips as he sunk fully into her.

**

It was late at night, or rather early in the morning, as Fitz made his way down the hall to Jemma’s – his – their room. Capturing Creel had been a long, arduous mission, but he and Mack had pulled through with getting the tech ready. And now he just wanted to curl up next to Jemma and sleep for about 12 hours. But when he walked into the room, he saw that she was still up. Well, barely, but Lenore was active enough for the two of them. It was somewhat surprising, considering how well the baby had been sleeping lately, but Jemma _had_ texted him earlier that Fitz not putting Lenore to sleep had messed everyone’s routine up. Clearly, this meant Lenore spending the wee hours of the morning entertaining herself while Jemma dozed in the rocking chair.

Fitz smiled at his family, the adoration he felt for them causing an almost physical ache in his heart. And then he stepped softly into the room. Leaning down, he gave Jemma a quick kiss to the top of her head before taking Lenore from her. 

“OK, sweetie,” he murmured quietly, walking back to the hallway and into the smaller adjacent room. “I know the world is a big, exciting place with so much to take in. But you’ll have to wait until a more reasonable hour. Deal?”

He kissed her a half dozen times before lowering her into the crib. Humming the lullabies Jemma had taught him what felt like ages ago and stroking her little stomach did the trick, and several minutes later, she had gone back to sleep. 

Fitz returned to the other room, smiling when he saw that Jemma hadn’t moved at all. He walked over to her again, crouching down in front of the chair and sliding his hands along her thighs. She moaned sleepily. 

“Jemma.” No answer. “Jemma, time for bed.”

She blinked her eyes open, then sent Fitz a lazy smile. “You’re back.” 

Fitz didn’t know if it was because it was late and he was tired, or if it was because it was dark and quiet and intimate in the room, or if it was because he had successfully completed what could have been a dangerous mission, or if it was because she was just so beautiful and perfect and _his_ after everything they’d been through. But something made her statement feel so much more meaningful than it probably was intended to be, and he couldn’t help but reply in kind.

“I’ll always come back to you,” he whispered. “I love you.”

She opened her eyes again, appearing to be waking up more. And then she reached a hand down, stroking her fingers through his hair before cupping the side of his face.

“I love you too.”

“I always have, I think,” Fitz continued, feeling almost like his heart was going to beat out of his chest with the urgency to make her understand how very much he meant it. How very much he cherished her. “Even that first – do you – do you remember our first date?”

“Vividly,” Jemma replied with a smile, waggling her eyebrows teasingly.

“I’m being serious,” Fitz attempted to scold.

Jemma’s face sobered, and she sat up straighter. She looked at him, waited for him to go on.

“I saw you standing there, and I just – I knew. I wanted to propose to you right then and there.” Fitz ignored Jemma’s gasp as he shifted, moving from his crouch until he was on one knee. “I still do. More than ever.”

“ _Fitz_.”

“Jemma, will – will you mmmm…”

Jemma sat up, hands going out to him, and Fitz shook his head. He backed away, out of her reach. 

“Let me say it, da – damn it.”

Jemma took a deep breath, exhaling it slowly. She put her hands back in her lap and nodded. Fitz looked down, tried to settle himself, tried to wrangle his tongue and make his brain work properly. He clenched his fist for a moment, and then looked up again. Jemma stared back at him, eyes glistening and a dazzling smile on her face. Fitz exhaled sharply.

“Will you marry me?” And then Jemma moved, leaning forward to put both hands on his cheeks and pull him up into a passionate but quick kiss. When she broke away, Fitz felt a bit overwhelmed. “That’s a yes?”

“Obviously,” Jemma clarified.

And then Fitz jumped to his feet, pulling Jemma up with him and into a tight embrace. She peppered his face with kisses, sniffling through happy tears.


	13. Epilogue

Being members of a semi-secret organization determined to protect all mankind from frequent and varied threats didn’t leave much time for wedding planning. Lenore was walking and even saying a few words (much to her parents’ – and Skye’s – dismay, the first two names she really mastered were _Bah-bee_ and _M’ck_ ) by the time they just demanded some time to fly to England and get it over with. 

It was a short, sweet ceremony, with Lenore and Jemma’s parents and brothers and Fitz’s mom and (Jemma had no idea how and she never did get an explanation but Coulson grinned a little too much when they were describing the day to the team) Marci in attendance. Fitz made it through the vows without a hitch, but Jemma cried so much she could barely get out the words. Afterwards, she told him she couldn’t quite believe that every dream she never realized she had until she lost them had come true. And he reminded her that without her work on the serum, he wouldn’t even be there. She had saved his life _and_ made it worth living. And then they kissed a lot, so much that her brothers started making unfunny threats again.

They only had a few hours in London for a honeymoon, but they made the most of it. And when they returned to the Playground, there was another small party. The most shocking gift, something no one had been able to explain, something which even the security cameras failed to pick up, was Grant Ward, unconscious, bloody and tied up, back in his cell. A lone daffodil rested on his chest.

“Your favorite,” Fitz observed, still blinking in surprise after Skye had announced the strange news. 

“Mmm,” Jemma agreed, smiling wickedly. “They can represent new beginnings and future happiness. But a single one spells doom.” 

She walked away then, apparently not giving the man in the basement a second thought. Fitz took the opportunity to glance at May, who didn’t respond or even meet his eyes. But the corner of her mouth quirked upwards with the tiniest of twitches.

**

Things were going swimmingly, all things considered. Certainly they still had work to do, and Hydra reared one of its many ugly heads on a regular basis, but S.H.I.E.L.D. was solid again, stronger than ever. And Fitz was so happy – with his family, his friends, his work. He was also much better, rarely showing any symptoms anymore and having mastered numerous workarounds and coping strategies for when he did. He knew he’d never be the same person, not completely. But he didn’t hate the new Fitz as much as he used to.

He glanced up at Jemma, who grinned back as she walked into the lab. 

“Where’ve you been?” he asked curiously. 

“Oh, Coulson and Lenore found some stuff of Peggy Carter’s. They were showing it to me.”

Fitz chuckled.

“What?” Jemma asked, slipping on a pair of gloves as she returned to the project she had abandoned earlier when a mysterious and now-explained message came in. 

Fitz shook his head. “You two are like peas in a pod. I find it a little funny how well you get on these days.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she replied haughtily.

He raised a teasing eyebrow, and then they worked silently for a while. Even across the lab from each other, focusing on different tasks, they were a smooth and seamless unit. _FitzSimmons_ , the single name adopted teasingly by most of the team, had stopped being a joke a long time ago. Now, it just accurately described them, and Fitz got a secret little thrill whenever someone said it. 

“Oh,” Jemma spoke up. “I’ve been emailing Marci. I think Lenore and I will go visit sometime next week, if Trip will fly us. The 18th, maybe.”

“The 18th was last week,” Fitz informed her, not bothering to look away from the machinery he was fixing.

“What? No, it wasn’t.”

Fitz glanced up then, giving her a little nod. Jemma dropped her pipette, ripped off her gloves and walked over to the computer. Fitz waited a moment while she pulled up the calendar, trying not to gloat. He so rarely got to be right when they disagreed.

“The 18th was last week!”

“Yes, darling. That’s what I said.”

Jemma didn’t respond, and Fitz watched as her brow furrowed. She continued to stare at the screen, her eyes darting back and forth and her mouth moving silently. 

“You’ve been a little spacey lately,” Fitz observed, trying not to anger her with the statement. He added, jokingly, “Thought I was the one with brain damage.”

“Damn it, Fitz!”

He held up one hand in placation. “Sorry. You’re not forgetful at all. You’re brilliant.”

She stood straighter, still glaring at him, but there was something off about her expression too. Something that made him think she was not as angry as she was pretending to be. She shook her head, letting out a seemingly frustrated sigh.

“You’re just going to have to be the one,” she informed Fitz, “to explain to Coulson why two people with our combined IQ can’t figure out birth control.”

Fitz didn’t say anything for a long, long moment. He sensed his mouth was open, and he knew his eyes were blinking, but it felt almost like an out-of-body experience. He kept trying to figure out if there was another way her statement could be interpreted. Neither of them had come out and admitted that they’d been playing with fire lately, that they were trying without really trying, but…they _were_ both smart people. Jemma’s coy little smiles were always a smidgen too knowing whenever he _casually_ reminisced about when Lenore had been tiny. And he had a good idea what exactly she was angling for when she’d breathlessly beg him to wait just a bit longer before pulling out of her. 

He started to grin, and Jemma smiled back at him.

“Easy – ” he cleared his throat, and then continued, “Easy explanation. Condoms are only effective something like 98% of the time, and that’s when they’re used properly. Probability just caught up to us. If you weren’t constantly jumping me…” He broke off to dodge the pencil she threw at him.

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year! Thanks for reading!


End file.
